Plot Tfoainst Plot 



BY THOME LUIZ de FREITAS 

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Plot Against Plot 



BYz 



THOME LUIZ de FREITAS 

«^* a£* «£& 

^ Copyright 1903 ^ 

By the Author 

e£* a5* &£& 



Gem State Rural Printers, 
Caldwell, Idaho. 




THE: LiURARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

MAY 19 1903 

Copynght knUy 
CUSS £- XXci No 
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OPY 8. 



TMP92-009301 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



BY- 



THOME LUIZ de FREITAS 



Dramatis Personae. 



Garrett Swift, a lawyer. 
Arthur " a doctor: 
Albert " in love with Bess 
Stevens* 

James Gosson, ward to G. Swift. 

Longworth, father-in-law to 
G. Swift. 

Robert Dayton, a wealthy mer- 
chant; Andrew, his SOU. 

Amos Eaton, son-in-law to Eong- 
worth. 

John Ames, friend, to Eaton. 

Hary Chase, nephew to Ames. 

Will, son to Ames. 

David, son to Eaton. 

Brueno, an escaped convict and, 
friend to G. Swift. 



Helen, wife to G. Swift. 

Etta, daughter to Dayton. 

Alice, sister to Swifts. 

Bess Stevens, in love with Al. 
Swift. 

Elvira, wife to Eaton and sis- 
ter to Helen. 

Mable, da icghter to Elvira and 
Eaton. 

Emma, wife to Ames; May, their 

daughter- 
Bov. officers, servants, and others. 



Scene:— United States, West and South. 



ACT I. 

Scene l.—d. room in Swift's fwuse- 

Enter Etta Dayton. 

Etta. No one in. Good! I will go 

to the window — 
Here I begin to feel the sore effects 
Of my suspitions which are but too 

true! 
Yet how could he, being my loving 

brother, 



Love her to whom I hold so much 
hatred] 

O, but look! So soon! Walking hand 
in hand 

And perhaps heart in heart? He twen- 
ty-one, 

She thirty and five! Friendship? It 
cannot be 

In so short an acquaintance! No, 'tis 
love. 

Poor brother, doomed to suffer!— 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



In here comes he leading his woes 
And here [going behind the piano] 
will I hide me to hear his vows. 

Enter Alice Swift and Andrew 
Dayton. 

And. 'Tween lonely walls two 

lovers love to be 
To speak alone where no one'd hear 

nor see, 
But lock'd doors had ears, and blind 

windows eyes 
And empty corners tongues, that told 

their sighs; 
Thus on finding themselves betrayed, 

jealousy 
Made them think each other false to be. 
Then let us but gaze in each other's 

eyes, 
Thus ask our questions and make our 

replies. 
That what we read no tongues may 

tell. 
Alice. But say, where did you learn 

to rhyme so well — 

Entev James Gosson. 

James. Good morning to you both — 

'tis pleasant and cool. 
Alice. Who's he so little that can 
speak so great — 
Intruder, it is early but you are late, 
Therefore go back for no tongue called 
your name. 
James. No madam, no tongue of 
yours, yet I came, 
Came to stay, till arrives the proper 

time. 
For me to go intrude another clime. 
Alice. You leave this room immed- 
iately, fool! 
James. So soon? 
Why you command it as though you 

did own 
The whole world and all its inhabitants; 



But madam you do not. 

Alice. Get you away, ) r ou idiot you! 
James. Had a wise lady called me 

so, it would 
Have made me blush for shame of be- 
ing he, 
But words without thoughts have no 

such effect 
Upon my person. — Make love if you 

wish. 
Pay no attention to me at all. 
And. James, James — 
ALICE. Say nothing to him. Come, 

let us go out, 
For they that waste their time to teach 

a fool 
Wound their own reputation with a 

dull tool. 
James. A good phrase but not yours, 

for as a rule, 
Dull fools will always speak some one 

else's words, 
Because they have no thoughts to lend 

their tongues. 
These are somewhat akin to mock- 
ing birds 
Which sing nothing but other singer's 

songs. 
And. [aside] She'll think we, in 

the west, do nothing but rhyme. 
Alice. My brother shall learn of 

your good behavior, 

exit with Andrew. 
She occupies my mind but little. — 
What? ha!— 
Who would, e'en for a moment, think 

of dreaming, 
Or dream of thinking that this great 

lawyer 
(Great in his own conceit as I long have 
The proof) could be the author of 

such a crime? 
That he is poor in his profession 'tis 

true: 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



Atid that's one great hope of his being' 

honest; 
Then how can it be! yet — 
Tis true that I have often seen him sit 
here anywhere thinking himself alone 
And tor hours at a time, seemingly so, 
To be buried in deep thoughts; now 

searching his brain 
With his eye balls as if there were 

great things 
To be found there; now waving his 

tong hand 
And shaking his lofty head as though 

he'd met 
With dreadful obstacles in his vast 

thinking; 
Now gathering his corner'd brows to- 
gether; 
And now sitting motionless for great 

moments, 
In which time the keenest eye could 

perceive not 
In his whole frame the slightest sign 

of life. 
But suddenly, twisting around and 

filliping 
His thigh with his fore finger, which 

I took 
To be a mark of "Now I got to th' 

point," 
He would take up his memorandum 

book 
From his large pocket (for thieves al- 
ways have 
Large pockets) and with cunning 

smiles set down 
His wonderful discoveries; this done, 
He would then pace the floor to and 

fro but 
With his eyes still fixed on that one 

object 
Of his mind, saying "There can be uo 

danger." 
But this I thought it was to imitate 



Some great man whom he had heard 

or read of. 
It was, although not the man of my 

mind. 
Rut a great thief! A murderer! O fie! 
It cannot be but that he jests with me 
Merely to try the strength of my char- 
acter. 
Bold fool! Thus t' trv me, when he 

better knows — 
But here he comes, we'll see how far 
his purpose goes. 

Enter Garett Swift. 
Gar. The morning looks well in 

her summer garments. 
Jamrs. With her sun-bonnet o'er 
her golden brow 
And stripes of green about her bosom, 

she 
Indeed appears to be as happy as 
The Irish girl upon St. Patrick's day. 
Gar. Yet you are sad. 
James. It is through envy that I'm 

so. 
Gar. How's that? 
James. I can partake not of her joys. 
Gar. Which one? The morning- or 

the Irish girl? 
James. Either. 
Gar. Yet, you may. 
James. As yet I can't. 
Gar. Why you can, have you con- 
sidered my offer? 
James, [aside] He's tried that 
tries, therefore I shall this day, 
See what stuff this man is made of — 

let's see — 
No; thinking that you were jesting, I 
Gave it no thought, whatever. 

Gar. What makes you sober then? 
James. The absence of strong drink. 
Gar. Ha, ha, ha! Good! What 

makes you sad? 
James. O, you know that love's 
earliest brinaring-s 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



Are naught but bitter sorrow's first 

stingings. 
Gar. What! In love! 
James. Yes, sir in love, but not 

loved. 
Gar. If you're not jesting, 'tis well 

that you should 
Acquaint me with it for it is, I think, 
Your dutv to do so. You must remem- 
ber 
That I have, for these five years, been 

your guardian. 
And brought you up with a parental 

care; 
Schooling you as if you were my own 

child, 
And with such comforts as I could 

afford, 
And sometimes going much beyond 

my means; 
All this I did with pleasure, it was 
Not to receive reward in later years, 
But that you may someday become a 

man. 
James, [aside] O how can heavy 

thoughts produce light words! 
Although what he says be true, which 

it is— 
He has, indeed, been very kind to me — 
But, what of it? So will the lynx 

with the lamb 
Most kindly plav while leading it to its 

death 
Then, th' question is, will he be so in 

th' future? 
If he will I am a villain — I — 
Gar. Speak freely. 
James. Yes sir, I shall come to the 

point at once: 
I am in love [aside] O what a lie, 

how shall 
I tell it!— with— 

Gar. Go on, go on. 

James. With a pretty girl, who 

would love me if I 



Had but a few thousand to make her 

happy, 
But being poor, she loves me not. 
Gar. What would you do to win 

the amount required. 
James. Anything, either good or 

bad. 
Gar. Then, take my yesterday's 

proposition. 
James. I would but — 
Gar. Do 't my boy! There 's in it 
a fortune that 
Will last you your life time. 
James. That would be but a very 
small amount 
For th' life between the deed and th' 

feared noose 
About my neck, would be but short; 

yet I 
Would as lief die as hopelessly live. — 
What is the fee you intend to give? 
Gar. Five thousand. 
James. Give me the dagger; name 
the hour of th' day 
Or night in which you wish it to be 

done; 
And I, as noiseless, as invisible 
As death, with robes as black, and 

heart as stern, 
Shall to my victim's dwelling steal 
my way. 
Gar. Will you do it? 
James. Who would not kill a devil 

t' win an angel. 
Gar. No dagger need you take, nor 
blood '11 be shed 
But the contents of this flask will do 

the work 
With such perfection that no skill of 

man 
Shall e'er detect, [gives the flas k l 
James. How am I to use it? 
Gar. Three drops thrice each day. 
James. And how long shall it be 
ere it will break 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



The bubbling mirrors of his life? 
Gar. From fifteen to eighteen days. 
James. That is a little too near my 

arrival 
It will cause some suspicion, I much 

fear. 
Gar. Not in the least. 
James. Explain. 
Gar. This morning's paper has the 

explanation. 

Reads. F. J- Longworth who 
was here last summer on a 
visit to his daughter, Mrs- 
Helen Swift, is just recovering 
from, an illness- .Not being able 
to revisit the West this summer 
as it had been his intention, he 
has written to Mr. Swift for the 
company of Mr- Jam s Gosson, 
who is the latter 's ward. 

It is said that the old, gentle- 
man, while here became greatly 
attached to young Gosson for his 
cheerful and sensible conversa- 
tions which he thought much 
above the youth's years- 

Mr- Swift, of course, has gran' - 
ed the request and, our hero will 
leave this morning for his new 
southern home- 
See the point. 

James. Yes, yet I fear — 
Gar. My boy, drop that fear, for if 
the worst comes, 
I understand all point of law in these 
books. 
James. If to bear law books is to 
understand 
All points of law and be a lawyer, then, 
An ass, when loaded with the same 

stuff is one, 
For he, too, under stands all points of 
law. 
Gar. Whom are you speaking to? 



James. To you, to whom it's due. 
Gar. What! 

James. There are men who are 
very ignorant 
Indeed, j'et ne'er so ignorant but that 
In their conceit can find a great know- 
ledge 
Of things which they think Ml be of 

much delight 
Toothers, such men, from my point 

of view, 
Are the nearest kin to the moon of all 

beings 
I know of — if they will produce any- 
thing 
That'd be of benefit to mankind, you 
May doubtless say: "It was borrowed." 
Gar. Have you been drinking? 
James. Yes, in a vision I have 
drank blood! blood! — 
Innocent blood, which made me mad 

drunk! 
You miserable cur! 

O the most evil of names is but too good 
To be to you applied! Ah, I could 

wring 
Your damned heart and laugh at it's 

dropping blood 
Were it not for the pleasure of seeing 
You suffer a long hopeless life. 
Gar. Give me that flask! 
James. This flask? Ha! 
No, these ingredients are your con- 
viction. 
Therefore I shall hold them dearly, sir! 
Gar. How my conviction? 
James. Because in law my word, 
though truer than yours, 
Is no better; and this will make it ten 
to naught. 
Gar. By hell! I shall — [advanc 

ing toward James.] 
James, [drawing a revolver. ] 
Sit down. 



8 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



Now, listen. When my father died 
you were 

Left in posession of five thousand 
dollars, 

Two thousand of which were to be 
given 

To me at the age of eighteen, the re- 
mainder, 

At twenty-one. At eighteen I've ar- 
rived 

But have not yet seen that amount 
mentioned. 

At twenty-one I hope to arrive, but 
know 

Not whether I shall e'er see the other 
or not. 

Gar. No such amount was ever 

left to me. 
Jam^s. No, not to you, but to me, sir! 
Gar. I mean in my possession. 
James. You lie as deep as hell 

[gives Gar. a paper. ] 

Read — Give it to me. Now get the 

money, haste! 
Gar. I will. exit. 
James. Good! This flask '11 take 

him to his stripped suit 
For at least five years. What! pay me 

to kill 
His father-in-law, who thinks him th' 

only man 
On earth, and who has shown so much 

kindness 
Toward me? Oh what an angel-faced 

devil 
This cur is! Loved and trusted by all 

who know him. 
(By all who know him not, I should 

have said.) 
But such is the curse in our nature 

sealed 
That teaches us to love the things we 

should hate 



And hate the things we should love 

most.— 
Black hearted fiend from hell, what 

grounds have I 
E'er given you to make you think that I 
Would do so foul a deed? A prison cell 
By far t s too good a place for you. — ■ 

[the flash drops upon a chair 
and breaks] 

Ha! broken, broken, and I quite undone 
Here my won victory is lost; his lost, 
Here won — -strange, nothing with me 

goes well! 
The spirit which a few moments past 
Did number his years of imprisonment 
Now hastely counts them backwards 

to naught, 
Making my story a mere fiction. — 
Well this is no time to lament my loss 
Nor thrice think on a single thought, 

but give 
One half a thought to each thinking, 

while I 
These fragments take up, and with my 

kerchief 
Wipe dry the cursed fluid streaming 

here. — 
Now to my room. exit- 
Enter a servant girl with flowers- 

Ser. They are kind of fading a bit, 
but I don't care. Hum, she is nothing 
but an old maid, and withered flowers 
are becoming to withered old maids. 
How foolish she must be to think that 
she can make love to young Dayton. 
Hum, he knows what he— O my, whats 
all that rolling down stairs! Some one 
walking in dreams! Am going: exit, 

Re-ent James Gosson with a flask 
like the broken one- 

James. Now for some water, quick T 
before he comes! 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



But where? There is no time to leave 

the room 
For he will soon be here, if not already 
Spying-, although he is, it matters not 
I am at my worst. — Good! The flower's 

vase — 
Now a little chalk. — The very likeness. 
And now shall I obey my mind, or no? — 
Yes I must be false to be true. 

Re-enter Gar. Swift. 

Gar. James, are you still resolved 

to do me 
So much harm after I have been so 

kind 
To you my boy? 

James. Yes, sir, still so, 
There is no earthly power that can 

stay me. 
Gar. [aside] I'll try another 

scheme — well then, 
Here is your money. Perhaps I should 

have 
Giv'n it to you before but thinking 

that 
You were too young to manage 

business 
Of any kind, I kept it out on interest. — 

Gives money. Looking through a 
window behind James with alarm- 

My God! Oh what a sigh! L,ook! Look! 

there look! 
James. Ha, ha, ha! ha! 

I have an eye in the back of my head 
Which sees that sight, therefore while 

looking I 
Shall count my money and see if 'tis 

not 
A counterfeit. — Now, do not move; 

for if 
You but stir, I will kill you outright — 
Be patient. I shall soon call a blue coat. 
[Goes to the phone] Hello— West— 
Gar. Stav! listen! 



James. What is it? Be brief. 

Gar. Take a thousand dollars for 

the flask. 
James. No! 

Gar. Two. James. No! Gar. Three. 
James. No! Gar. Four. James. Ha, 

ha! No, no! 
Gar. Five. 
James. By hell, no! You can't buy 

me out. 
Gar. Take ten, all I have in hand. 
James. I thought that you were of 
a great conceit 
But now I see that I was mistaken 

since 
You value your own freedom, honor, 

and name 
At no more than ten thousand dollars. 

Well, 
I will be kinder to you than you were 
Unto yourself. Your freedom, honor 

and name 
Worth, at the highest, twenty-five 

thousand. 
Sir, get the money and keep them 

awhile, 
As long as you may. 

Gar. Ten thousand is all I have 

within reach. 
James. Durn it. What of that? 

Borrow, borrow. 
Gar. Very well I'll see what I can 

do. 
James. O, come back here — now sit 
down — 
Do you feel how it is to be reproached? 
Gar. I understand you not. 
James. No, well I will explain: Do 
you remember 
Four years ago (I was just fourteen 

then) 
When we went hunting in the forest 

heights 
Of Payette river and one morning- as I 
Came into camp pursued bv a she bear 



10 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



How you called me a coward, good for 

nothing? 
Then, with heart breaking- and eyes 

full of tears, 
With boyish sorrows and deep inward 

cries, 
I clinched my fists and swore that I, 

some day, 
Would prove to you that I had some 

courage. 
Now thinking- that we might ne'er 

meet again 
After this enterprise, I have performed 
The act for two particular reasons: 
The fist, 'twas not because I had much 

grudge 
Against you, no, nor not with cowardly 

aim 
Of tyrannous proud vengeance, but 

simply 
To make my word good, and the second, 

was 
To let you know that I am capable 
Of carrying out your purpose. 
Gar. I can't believe you. 
James. Then here's my money; 

keep it still with you 
And here is the flask you may keep 

it too. 

[Gives money and flash to Swift] 

Do you believe me now? 

Gar. How singular you are! 
James. O, hardly so. 
Gar. [aside] I have gone too far. 
He's the only man 

I can use — will give him another trial — 

Here; 'tis [offering the flash] pre- 
pare yourself for you have but 

A half an hour ere leave the East- 
ward-bound. 

James. When I 'm discharg'd and la- 
ter on offered 

Again the same employment, I ne'er 
take it 

Unless my salary be raised — 



0,look not so amazed and horror struck 
For I love gold as well as you, then, 
Be fair in your terms if you wish me so. 
Gar. Have I not always been the 

same with you? 
James. I'll anwesr that anon— your 

father-in-law 
Has four daughters and all girls at 

that. 
Two of these pretty maids eloped with 

youths 
Without professions; poor they were 

yet honest; 
But not withstanding all their honesty, 
He has, as very well you know, erased 
There names from his will, I mean, his 

daughters'. 
Now fearing that he may in later years, 
Change his mind, or be wakened by re- 

mose 
Of conscience, divide his lage estate 
Into four equal parts, making your 

share 
One hundred an' fifty thousand dollars 

less, 
(Half of which is in cash and half in 

lands) 
You wish me to kill him for five thous- 
and? — 
No, sir, you have not been honest 

with me. 
Gar. How much do you want, then? 
James. My want's, like yours, are 

limitless; but I 
Expect to get the little sum of fifty— 
Gar. Of fifty! 
James. Yes, fifty thousand, and 

ten in advance. 
Gar. Wh— at! 
James. For that amount I shall 

send the old man 
T'his ancestors. And if he changes 

the will 
Ere I arrive; to his three daughters' 

husbands 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



11 



Shall I change my course; afterwards, 

induce 
Two of the widows t' marry your two 

brothers; 
The other me, so that the whole fortune 
Will be left in the family, but, sir, 
For less than that, I shall not even 

harm 
The smallest insect that e'er crept 
their legs. 
Gar. Well, vou shall not have it, 
James. Keep it all, do it all your- 
self. Who cares? 
Gar. You are too independent to 

my notion. 
James. And you, too selfish to 

mine own. 
Gar. What do you want with so 

much money now? 
Sames. What do you want with so 

much by-and-by. 
Gar. O, well— 
JamES. That's it. Hire someone- 

else, then. 
Gar. [aside] Ten thousand takes 
every cent I have, yet, 
I will do it, let him do the work now 
And I will do him by-and-by — 
Very well, 1 will get the money, [exit] 
James. What have I done! Now I'm 
a thief, nay worse, 
For he that steals of thieves is thief of 

thieves, 
Therefore I am worst than the worst 

of thieves — 
Well, then, 

Let mischief be my ruler, I her subject, 
And as long as she will rule as she 

this day 
Has done, I shall serve her most 

faithfully.— 
But who comes here now? Ah, poor 

lady you 
But little know of your lord's cruel aim. 



Enter Helen, Swift's wife, from 
upstairs. 

HEL. Good morning, James. I 
feared I might be late 
And miss your good-by, but thanks, 
'tis yet time. 
James. Your coming's never too 
late nor too early 
But at all hours, 'tis always in due time. 
Hel. Again, thanks — by the way. 

have you done packing? 
James. O yes, I am as well packed 
as a jade 
And with such stuff that would break 
any mule's back 
HEi/. I'd ask your meaning, but be- 
ing accustomed 
T' your parable speaking, I'll not 

inquire 
Where lies the target which you're 

aiming at. 
You're very singular indeed, but this 

day 
Your singularity seems far more 

strange 
To me than e'er before. Is it possible 
That you're going south against your 
will? 
James. No, but I am so glad to go 
that the clock 
Seems to be moving backwards. 

HE!,, [aside] Worse than I hoped 
for! — Are you so glad 
Of leaving us that the time seems so 
long with you? 
James, [sadly] Yes. 
Hel. And why? 

James, [absent minded] You 

have been so kind to me and I 

So rude, so gross to you, that I'm a- 

shamed 
Of living any longer in your house — 
Yet — in heart I love you. 
HEL. Love me! 



12 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



James. Yes, as I would a sister, had I 

one. 
HEL. [aside] Oh worse and worse! — 

and if I had been she 
A thousand times happier would I be 
Yet, as it is, were it not for my father's 

sake, 
I would beg - you to stay and call me 

sister 
And thus could I be happy with you 

here. 
But your departure leaves this house 

as lonley, 
As cold, as the moon! Dead and pale 

as she! 
No friendly voices shall I hear! no 

friends 
Shall I see ever more! no, nothing- save 
The ugly visions of the coming years 
Which show naught, naught, but 

sorrow and disgrace. 
James, [aside] My God! Could 

she have over-heard us! 
Hel. I often wonder in the dead of 

night 
Through horr'ble dreams 'pon whose 

obscnrities 
I see such terrible and monstrous 

sights! 
Oh! faces pale, dead pale with terror, 

pleading 
For mercy; but the stern and heartless 

hand 
With dagger keen as the sharp edge 

of death 
Grasps tighter hold and with a cruel 

laugh 
Strikes the blow under whose cold 

piercing point 
The victim utters the last cry of agony 
Upon which frightful sound I sudd'nly 

wake 
Beneath the hot breath of a traitor's 

kiss! 



Ah I would have gone mad long, long 

ago! 
But the soft echo of your cheerful 

voice 
Still ringing in my ears; the fact of 

knowing 
That you still were beneath this roof, 

saved me 
From that oblivious insanity. 
Now since you must go, it will not be 

long 
Ere I shall fill a vacant place in one 
Of those dark houses where life is not 

known 
To th' occupants. Yet, perhaps it is 

better 
To live and not know, than to know 

and live 
The life I see before me now! 
James, [aside] "I would have 

gone mad long ago!" 
Then, she speaks not of th' present 

circumstances; 
The traitor mentioned is her husband; 

well, 
We shall learn something more about 

this great man — 
Insanity is often caused by constant 
Imagination of things which are not 

real. 
Hei<. 'Tis, perhaps, so. 
James. Then, quit thinking of 

things which are untrue 
And there will be no danger. 
Hel. Untrue! 
James. Well, then, I am mad by 

imagining 
You speaking thus, or you, to imagine 
To be true that which you speak. 
Hel. [sobbing] Thank you. 
James. O weep not ere you can find 

reason, dear friend. 
Remember that suspicions often cause 
Our eyes and ears t' behold and to hear 

things. 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



13 



Which were ne'er spoken nor per- 
formed. 
HEL. Ah if you only knew what I 

know! 
James. And you, what I know so 

well. 
Hei,. What is it! O tell me? 
James. And I will: I know that 

you have a wise 
Loving - , and honest husband who gives 

you 
All comfort of life. What more can 

you wish? 
HEL. A wise, loving and honest 

husband; ha! 
O under th' loneliest pine that e'er 

grew 
Upon the utter most part of the earth; 
With no other food but the root of herbs; 
No other bed save the withered fallen 

leaves, 
Of th' selfsame tree; no other covers 

than 
It's slender, tossing boughs high 

over head: 
There, thus exposed to winter's sting- 
ing blasts 
And summer's sultry breezes, happier 
Would I be than here with the com- 
forts you speak of! 
Take me away from this infernal 

house! 
If you love me not, pity me! O pity me! 
For my love's sake! Yes, let us fly 

tonight! 
Get off at the next station, and wait 

my coming. 
James. I will, when all the women 

living marry — 
All from the cradle to the coffin, and 

bear 
Nothing but boys, and die before their 

husbands, 
But while there will be goodly widows 

and maids 



I — shall not! Because: — 

She that flies from her own with me to 

stay, 
From me to another will fly the next 
day. 
Hei.. Never! 

James. The selfsame word which, 
some time in the past, 
You told to your husband. 
Hei.. I never told him so. 
James. Wherefore, then, married 

him? 
Hei.. Being but fourteen, an' know- 
ing no distinction 
Between men, I thought it meet to 

obey 
My father. 
James. Why not still think it 

meet to obey him no"v? 
Hel. Because the man whom he did 
choose for me 
Is nothing but a common thief and- 
James. What! 

Hei,. O, it is true, belieye me! save 
me now; 
For I once did save you! 
James. Saved me! 
Hei.. Yes, had it not been for me 
you would never 
Have seen your fifteenth birthday. I 

say this; 
It is not to fall in your better favor, 

no; 
But simply to tell the truth as it was. 
Perhaps you still remember the fever 
You had at the time I am speaking of? 
James. Yes. 

Hel. You know my husband and 
his brother, the doctor, 
Just then, as you were getting some- 
what better, 
Left for the south, leaving with me a 
flask 

Filled with some medical ingredients 
Which I was to give you in lemonade 



14 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



Three drops thrice each day, but — 
James, [aside] The trick, then, is 

old, old! Proceed. 
Hel. But knowing' their conceal'd 
desire to hoard 
Much wealth in any way that it could 

be got 
And knowing the nature of your 
father's will — 
James. What was its nature? 
Hei,. Should you, before becoming 
of age, die, 
And leaving neither wife nor children; 

he, 
The bearer of the will, would be the 
heir. 
James. To evil minds, its nature 

was not good. 
Hel. That very same thought came 
to me, and I, 
Instead of giving you the cursed mix- 
ture 
Used it on our house dog in some 

fresh meat 
And he, poor fellow, in three weeks 
died. 
James. How kept you your experi- 
ment from their knowledge? 
HEL. I wrote a letter to my hus- 
band, saying 
That I had accidently broken 
The flask: directly with his answer he 
Sent me another which was to be used 
As th' former one. But when he did 

return 
I gave it him saying that you were 

well 
When it arrived. O, the look he cast 
Upon me I shall never more forget! 
James. And are those all your 

fears. 
HEL. Are they not enough? 
James. No, not for you to leave 
your loving husband. 



E,en though were he that which you 

think he is; 
So far as he had been kind unto you; 
You have no right, not only to leave 

him, 
But to speak, or to think, of doing so. 
How can you blame him for commit- 
ting crimes 
That he has never done, nor thought 

of doing; 
When you, yourself, turning around , 

act one 
Ten thousand times worse than those 

you suspected. 
O, shame! how dare you try to bring 

us both 
As low as reptiles to crawl in the 

flames 
Of burning shame and sorrow and 

disgraced; 
Thus hurl high honor into th' depths 

of hell 
And violate the law of God and men I 
Hel. O, I have told the truth. 
James. You told the truth, but that 

truth is a liar. 
Know you not that in many cases the 

drug 
Prepared to cure some disease will kill 
If given to a healthy being? 
Hel. My God! Can it be so? 
James It can, and at least in this 

case, 'tis so. 
Hei,. I'm punished! Adieu! adieu! 

exit' 
James. Strange, strange, that 

angles should with devils live, 
And I love, where I should but friend- 
ship give. — 
Thou stubborn love that canst be o'er- 

thrown 
Die within my heart, then, uneeen, 

unknown; 
For as thou yieldest not unto me, 
So shall I unto thee most stubborn be 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



15 



Re-enter Gar. Swift- 

Gar. The train is earlier than ex- 
pected, prepare. 

Exit James upstair- 

Must I give all, all to my last cent; 

And let my house lean against an 
empty purse; 

With no income, nor no prospects in 
view 

By which I may gain the prop to sus- 
tain it? 

With no foundations whereon to build 
plots? — 

No fights, no robberies, no murders 
done 

To be discussed in court? — The times 
are good. 

All's peace, and in peace my profession 
dies! 

Hum, he intends not to take it at all. 

He's merely trying to fret me again. 

Re-enter James with a valise. 

Will you do it? 
James. I will. 
Gar. Swear. 

James. The true will be true whether 
s,vorn or not 
The false, false, though he'll take a 
thousand oaths. 
Gar. Enough. 

Here it is, two, five, eight and ten. — 
Write often but do never mention nor 

give 
The slightest hint of the work in 
your letters. 
James. Fear not, you know that 
money makes fools wise 
And fear makes cowards very cautious 
Farwell! exit- 

Gar. Ha! not a jest this time— I fear 
this devil much, 
The ten he has got, but the forty 
never! — 



Let's see what news [Taking up a 

news paper] 
Sold a gold mine for fifteen thousand 

dollars. — 
What! Harry Chase of our town in the 

south? 
Why I know him. Good! 
Enter Bessie Stevens and Albert 
Swift. 
BESS. O what a lovely ride we had — 
Al. Why brother what has happen- 
ed? You're pale. 
Gar, In a security for others, I, 
This day have lost ten thousand dol- 
lars which 
Was all I had in hand therefore my 

promise 
Of lending you five thousand cannot be 
Just now fulfilled — consequently your 

marriage 
Must be postponed until the coming 

autumn 
[To Bess] Unless you are willing to 
help me. 
BESS. With all my heart. 
Gar. Read [Gives the paper. 
She reads to herself.] 
Now you must have a sprained ankle 
Caused by a leap from the buggy. 
At,. Why? 

Gar. To better our good purpose. 
BESS. Why then, 'tis true that 
fortune's often found, 
Not always through the knowledge of 

the wise, 
But as well through th' ignorance of 
the fool. 
Gar. And often by the latter it is 
found 
For the enjoyment of the former. Is 
it not? 
Bess. [Giving the paper to AL] 

Some times it. is so. 
Gar. What say you? Shall we 
make it so in this case? 



16 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



Bess, 1 say 'tis good. Can we? 
Gar. We can, with your wise help. 
Bess. O teach me and let us to it 

at once. 
Al. Why, brother, did you read this 

news? 
Gar. Yes, if you listen to us you 

shall know 

Why you should have a bad foot. 
[To Bess] Was not the gallant once 
in love with you? 
Bess. O, lost in it. 
Gar. Knows he of your engage- 
ment? 
Bess. I think not, for we kept it a 
secret 
In order, to have sport with his love 

letters, 
Which we did for two happy years; 

but when 
Al. came west, just a year ago last 

June, 
I dropped it, for sport, then, was out 
of tune. 
Gar. How many letters did he 
write? I mean 
Without you answering? 

BESS. Five, and such as I could 
wish for were he 
The proper man [Looking at Al.] 
At. There, now, you hit the mark 
with your eyes shut. 
For it means that my letters were not 
good. 
BESS. Judge not my meaning by 

your thoughts of mine. 
Gar. You may discuss your thoughts 
some other day. 
But now let us to Chase. I think he 

lives 
Somewhere near to the place of my 

wife's sister. 
To her ranch we will go to night as 
it is 



Much cooler traveling by night than 

by day. 
Bess. But — 
Gar. Fear not, our going will 

cause no suspicion, 
Whatever, for it has been, these six 

years, 
Our custom to spend there a week 

each summer. 
Al. And did you always go by 

night? 
Gar. [Impatiently] Yes— 
On our arrival, you must first inquire 
Of Harry Chase, as to where and how 

he is. 
When told, send him a message asking 

him 
To grant to you an interview; should 

he— 
Al. Upon one foot I shall go there 

to see — 
Gar. Make him believe that you 

have been in love 
With him all th' while, by saying that 

you wrote 
Him many loving letters and why did 

he 
Not answer you, or aught else which 

will suit 
The purpose to a better end, for you 
Know what has passed between you 

two, therefore 
You know what is the best to say or do. 
Bess. I can make him believe most 

anything 
Unless he is much changed since we 

last met. 
Gar. Wealth often is the cause of 

men's great change 
But whether it has been so with him 

or not 
I cannot say. But whatever you say 
To him, say it with a touch of sadness; 
Think of some incident in your past 

life 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



17 



Some little grief or joy so that your 
eye 

May gentle swim in th' tears of that 
supposed love. 
BESS. Have faith, for I shall counter- 
feit it well, 

But what will follow next? 
Gar. Promise to be his wife. 
BESS and Al. His wife! 
Gar. To promise to be is not ex- 
actly to be, 

Therefore your promise will be but a 
promise. 
At. Yes, but he must first ask 
her to be his wife 

Ere she can promise. And how do you 
know 

That he will? Tell me that. 

BESS. Pay no attention to his fool- 
ing — And then? 
Gar. Then, when he is won show a 
longing for home, 

And great desire of living there. Tell 
him 

Of many farms which are to be cheap- 
ly sold 

(For farming, I thiuk, is his ambition.) 

When 'tis agreed say 'tis not safe to 
leave 

His money in the bank, but better 
send it 

By mail or express. Have it done in 
the day 

That your supposed marriage is to 
take place; 

And at the latest moment of bank hour 

Go with him; on your way back to the 
office 

Complain of being thirsty; enter your 
rooms — 

Al. Not much Not by a — a — 

darned sight 

Gar. Enter your rooms 

And make two lemonades. The lemons 
you 



Will take before hand; but mark one's 

to be drugged. 
Al,. And mark it well lest you your- 
self should fall asleep. 
Bess. There's something in that — 

1 shall look to it— 
What am I to do when he, in slumber's 

fallen? 
Gar. Wait till dark, at which time, 

I, presently 
Shall be waiting beneath your window. 

Watch, 
And when you see a man in shabby 

clothes dressed; 
His hat torn, with the longest rim o'er 

his eyes; 
His shagged beard all dirty, long, and 

gray; 
His shoes unmate,d, unlike, in size, 

and leather: 
When from your window, such a man 

you see, 
Mark him well, for it is I in disguise. 
Then lower all your gainings by the 

means 
Of a twine string, withdraw, and when 

you think 
That it must be time for me to be at 

home. 
Take the drug which I shall give you 

and wait 
A minute, then open the door so that 
You both may be seen fast asleep- 
then let 
The court and Chase seek out the thief. 
Al. The devil himself could plot 

no better, 
That is, if you hadn't said that I must 

have 
My well foot sore, for the sport in the 

game 
Is worth to me as much as the money 
That in it is to you. In all your schemes 
I well agree with you, but in your 

saying. 



18 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



My having: a sick foot will help you 

better; 
In that I don't, for I can't see how can 
A cripple better help a man than one 
Who is in perfect health, unless you 

wish me 
To stay at home to scare away the fox. 
Gar. What do you mean by scare 

the fox away? 
Al. In winter when the snow 's 

deep and game scarce 
The wolf goes out and drives the fox 

from his den 
And feeds upon the stores that he had 

saved 
For winter's colder days; while he, the 

fox, 
Steals to the wolf's and gets a better 

morsel 
Than that which he is being robbed of. 
You see? 

Gar. Yes, yes, but let us to our 

business 
And let no one know of our purposes 
Save brother to whom I shall speak 

of it. 
Bess. But, Alice kno^vsof our en- 
gagement 
And should she speak of it to th 

country folks 
It will do us much hurt. 

Gar. Leave that to me — 
Now you are to be with a sprained foot 
And you must send up my mail every 

day 
It'll do for excuse if we should need to 

come back. 

Knter Arthur Swift. 

Gar. How is your patient? 
Ar. He must have th' constitution 
of a horse 

For no compounds have I that can his 
illness hold, 



No sir; he's getting better every day. 
Gar., Ar. talk aside- 
Bess. Do you think I had better do 

what's planned? 
Al. You are of age. 
BESS. I know it, but give your 

opinion. 
Al. We love, but love fills neither 
fork nor spoon, 
Therefore we must provide for both. 
BESS. I'll do it, then, for love's 

sweet sake. 
At,. So let it be. 
Ar. So you are pretty badly hurt, 

are you? 
Al. Yes, brother, but you must re- 
member that 
I haven't the constitution of a horse. 
Art. There'll be no danger since your 
purse has but 
The constitution of a beggar. Exit 
Ar. Bess and Al. to another 
part of the house • 
Re-enter Alice Swift and Ar. Dayton 

Alice. When are we going to the 

mountains, brother? 
Gar. Tonight. 
Alice. Not much, if I do go, It will 

by day; 
For I wish to take good view of the 

country. 
Gar. We hardly have the time to 

get ready. 
Alice. How far is it? 
Gar. Tvjn miles. 
Alice. Why 'tis but six o'clock 

now, and why can 
We not get ready and go ere night? say. 
Gar. We'll try. 
Alice, [fe Andrew] What do you 

say? 
And. I say: — If you would like your 

skill to engage 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



19 



On thing's of which your best art 

would beg knowledge 
Would love a simple song, an artless 

smile, 
Come to the country, watch, and list 

awhile. 
Exit And. through the street door 

Alice and Gar. to another 

part of the house- 
Etta, [advancing] To see what 

I saw, to hear what I heard! 
To trust the eye to the scene, the ear 

to the word! 
'Tis more than I of reason dare 

inquire 
Lest reason 'd reason and think reason 

a liar. exit. 

Scene II — A room in Amos Eaton's 
house Amos is reading a 
newspaper. 

Enter Elvira Eaton. 

El. Reading about Chase? 
Amos. Yes, and I was just think- 
ing that, if he will, 
He is the proper man for our daughter. 
El. Not he. 
Ahos Why? 

El. Our daughter loves. 

Amos Loves! 

El. Yes, you a father and not 

know it yet? 
Am. O you mean Willie Ames. 
Why 'tis nothing 
But brotherly affiction so proceeded, 
From their being raised together. 
El. How strange that you should 
judge it so! Look you 
Back through the scope of years; be- 
hold yourself 
In th' mirrors of that childhood when 

you were 
But fifteen, and again say, if you can; 
"It is a brotherly affiction." 



Had, then, a tongue said so to you or 

me 
What sorrow would it have brought 
'pon our hearts! 
Am. Alas! I have now waken'd and 

see it well. 
El. Then for the sake of those 
past years, 
Touch not that love which, yet, has 

known no sorrow; 
Let that God like affection choose its 
own course. 
Am. Enough! I only meant — 

Enter Will and May Ames. 
May. Poo — oh don't oh don't be 
scared, it is only I, and I am so glad 
that I forgot to knock. 

Am. What is it that makes you so 
g-lad? 

May. Why our hay's done, and all 
the men gone, and we are all alone 
again. 

Am. Do you prefer to be alone? 
May. Yes, yes, when there are not 
the right kind of men around. 

Will. And when the right kind are 
around 
she likes not, if she has to cook for 
them. Where is Mable? 

Enter Mable Eaton. 
Mab. Here I am, and knew you 
were through. — Now guess which is 
the thing- girls love best? 
May. A real nice fellow. 
Will. Nice fellow! Nothing! A 
nice new dress they love best. 

Mab. [Showing a pail full of 
Strawberries.] No sir; cream and 
strawberries they love best. 

WILL. O no, that,s boy's favorite. 
Exit Mable to another part of the 
house- 

Am. Where's Harry? 

WILL. Early this morning before 



20 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



break of day he left for his cow camp. 

May. Poor Harry is broken hearted. 
He left sweetheart in the sonthwhen 
he came west, and she, mean thing-, 
quit writing- to him sometime last year. 

Am. Why, we never knew it. 

May. Nor we, until yesterday when 
he burnt her letters and told us all 
about it. 

El. I wonder if I know her. 

May. I believe you do, because 
mamma said when you and she came 
west, the girl was just one year old. 
Her name is Bessie Stevens, and her 
father was, at the time, the Post- 
master of that place. 

El. and Am. We know them well. 

Am. Ithoug-hthe was much changed. 

May. Mamma says he'll never be 
as jolly as he used to be. 

Will. I'd like to see the girl that 
would make me sad or gay? 

May. You would? Don't speak so 
loud, and wait a little 

Bf>.-erite7-Ma.bel Tr ith dish- 
es, cake, cremn, etc. 
Mab. [Filling the dishes] This 
is the after haying party. 

El. You should have invited Mr. 
and Mrs. Ames. 

Mab. Mamma, I did. {Enter John, 
Emma Ames.] 

John. Good afternoon to you — 
your daug-hter tells me that you wished 
to see us in a hurry. 

Am. No, we said nothing of the 
kind. 

John. Why, young lady, I didn't 
know that you played the first of April 
in the middle of July. 

Mab. O, I beg your pardon. You 
know, this is a surprise party, and, | 
I, of course, had to lie a little to 
make it so. Now sit you all down and I 



I shall wait on you if ) T ou like 
John. Like it? Of course we like it. 
Mab. I wonder, I wonder, if I 
have enough at this rate. Let's see; 
one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. 
Will. Did you put yourself in, or 
did you count me twice? 

Mab. Count you twice! Of course it 
takes two like 5'ou to have a share. 

Joan. Now will you be good and 
talk less? 

May. Say Mable, when is your 
auntie coming up? 

Mab. We are expecting her every 
day. 

May. Is Mr. Swift coming too? 
Mab. Yes, and his two brothers, and, 
somebody else, you know. 

May. I think Mr. Swift is a nice 
man. 

Mab. Sometimes I like him well, 
and sometimes I do not. 
El. Mable! 

Mab. Mamma, I do not. He is al- 
ways saying "My dear, darling-, pet" 
and so forth. 

Will Why that's allright. Yes dear: 
no, darling; go on, pet; come on, 
honey; are city's love-pass-words; 
and you big rascal; you little goose; 
you die-gun-3'ou; are country's love 
pass. Of course, being in the 
country mostly, you think the city's 
silly; but when you live there long 
enough, you will like them best. 

Mab. I'll wait till then [serving 
berries and sifting by her- 
self.] 

Will. You'd better call the cat. 
Mab. Why? 

Will. To break the odds. 
Mab. O no, I will put pap's coat on 
the broomstick, and think it is you. 
May. Now, master Willie, again, 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



21 



will you be good? 
Will. No, not until I am winner. 
El. I have heard that players some- 
times chang-e their seats in pursuit of 
a better luck. 

Will. And I shall change mine for 
I'm loseing heavily 

[Sits by Mable.] 
May. Kitty, kitty, kity, come Tom, 

come sit by Willie and break odds. 

Will. I believe this a surprise party. 

May. [Aloud to Mable] The 
changing of his seat did not help him, 
now he wants to change the subject. 
What makes you think it a surpris- 
party? 

Mab. My telling, it was. 

Will. No, your wisdom, which is 
surprising'. 

May. [Aside to Mable.] Let us 
talk of something else before he get's 
it his way [aloud] you should have 
saved your berries for your auntie. — 

Will. A very good advice after 
having eaten them all up. 

May. O but you think you are smart. 

Will. I am your brother, you know; 
but 1ft us to something new. This is 
getting old and tiresome. 

Mab. The horse that loses the race 
breathes the hardest. Very well. 
Have you something new? 

Will. Yes, I '11 sing a song in the 
tune of empty-plates-scraping-spoons. 

Mab. Give it us. 

Will. I mean I will recite it. Here 
begin I. — 

Look, O look, at my empty plate, 

Nymphs of the woods and wand'rin<r 
fairies. 
O pity me and change niy fate 

By giving me more cream and berries. 
And if you will be e'er so kind, 

I'll love yon with a dreaming eye 
With all my heart, with all my mind, 

Until the berries within me die. 
And if you'd wish mv love were 
stronger 

Give me some more— I'll love longer. 



El. I believe you turn out a poet. 

Will. And I will, when I get me a 
house, and he goes in to ask for some 
thing to eat. 

EL. Good'!— Mable, he must have 
more berries. 

May. My! You eat berries as fast 
as an old hen wheat. 

Will. What's the matter with the 
rooster? 

Mab. Still worse; but I didn't want 
to be so hard on you this time — give me 
your plate; hurry, my, you are slow! — 
Now you shall not have more. 

Will. One must play stingy when 
there is no more to be given. 

El. That's right— [a pause] — 
Break the silence Willie. 

Will. No, O no. 

El. And why? 

Will. 

O. because, because, 
I love to hear the music of plata and spoon, 
To watch the watering:, and quiv'ring 
lip 

Waitinc"- for mouthfuls from the shallow 
moon 
Which is held by the rosy finder tip. 
This, I love t' hear and see with pleasing 
g-low, 
When my plate is so filled as t' over flow. 

May. My; what's all this noise! 

Will. Nothing but emigrating 
magpies. 

May. [Looking through the 
window] Well to day is my day for 
getting the cows. I'll be gone! e.vit' 

Mab. Why, there is a wagon. O, it 
is auntie! Mamma, go out and detain 
them until I put away the dishes. It 
won't do for them to know that we 
have been feasting, as we have no 
more berries. 
Exit John, Amos, Elvira, ^77-rZEmma. 

Mab. May saw the wagon, that was 
the reason she went out so suddenlv. 
You know I have been teasing her a- 
bout Andrew Dayton. He stole her 



22 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



picture from me last spring- and said 
he was coming- up this summer to see 
her, and sure enough, there he is, and 
oh, his sister is coming too! I think 
she is beautiful. Don't you? 

Will. I don't know. I can't see her. 

Mab. Come here where I am. 
Will goes and hisses her. 

Mab. O you little rascal, you. I — 

W11.T,. O no, darling, you must say 
pet. 

Mab. I will get even with you! 

Will. No, will you? 

Mab. I will! 

Will. All right, give it here. 

Mab. Don't be fooling, Willie. 

Will. I am not, I mean it — here. 

Mab. [Slapping him on the 
face] There is my debt. 

Will. [Pretending to be weep- 
ing] I w-i-ll tell m-a-m-ma o-o-on you. 

Mab. Did I hurt you Willie? [Pitt- 
ing arms around his neck and 
hissing him.] I didn't mean to hit 
you so hard. 

Will. Ha, ha, ha, ha! Which, with 
your hand or with your lips? 

Mab. I am "mad" at you now, I 
didn't hurt you at all. 

Will. Sorry because you hurt me, 
mad because you didn't? Well, now, 
that's strange. My gracious! If you 
are mad because of kissing me, why, 
take it back again [hissing her] 
there. 

Mab. I just hate you, I do! 

Will. No, you do not, you love me 
just as hard — 

Mab. I don't. 

WILL. That means I do, and you 
know it because it's old and you said 
it because you know I know that 
"girls nay stands for yea." 

Mab. And when they say yea, does 
it stand for nay? 



Will. Of course it does. 
Mab. Well then, I love you; 
Yes, O yes, I do. 

Will. I knew it all the time. 
Mab. But you know what it means, 
do you not? 

Will. I know it means just what 
you said 
Because the saying's old and out of 

date. 
Girls now are true and mean what they 

relate.— 
But hurry, or they'll take you by sur- 
prise, 
And I will read the paper and play 
wise. 
Exit Mable ivith dishes, etc- 
Re-enter Amos, John, Emma and 
Elvira with Gar., Hel., Alice, 
Arthur Swift, Andrew and Etta 
Dayton and Bessie Stevens. 
Amos. Now make yourselves at 
home in the best way you can, and ex- 
cuse us while we go out and put up 
the horses. Exit Amos and John. 
Bess and Emma talh aside- 
Etta to And. [aside] That Ar- 
thur Swift kills me with his 
looking. 
Let us go out, I am sick of his presence. 
And. Don't look at him, then you'll 

not see his gaze. 
Etta. I'll go alone [To El Eaton] 
I saw some beautiful 
Wild flowers on the hill above the 

house, 
May I go and pick a few? 

El. Why certainly. They are as 
much yours as mine. 

ArTh. May I accompany you, Miss 
Dayton? 

Etta. No, thank you, I shall not 
go far. Exit- 

El. How long do you people intend 
to stay this time? Sure you are not 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



23 



going to make your visit as brief as 
you did the one of the last year? 

Gar. Professional men, you know 
are now-a-days, mere servants of 
the people. When they are called they 
must go; but I hope we shall be for- 
gotten for at least two weeks. 

El. I hope so, too. 

Will, [aside] And you shall. 

El. [to And] Is this your first 
outing in this part of the country. 

And. Yes ma'am. 

El. [to Alice] And how do yon 
like the west so far. 

Alice. O, I think you people have 
a lovely country to live in. 

And. A lovely country with a lovely 
people ought to make a paradise, and — 
[re-enter Mable.] 

Will. And here comes the angel 
with the flaming sword. [Mable talks 
aside with Helen.] 

Gar. Why, hello young fellow, how 
do you do? Are you through haying? 

Will. Yes sir, unfortunately, we 
are: I say unfortunately, because of 
the good help we missed. 

Gar. That's right, and we brought 
our forks with us. 

Will. Your forks will be of no use 
for haying, since we are done, but 
they will come handy for grousing. — 

And. [aside to Alice] What do 
you think of that? 

Alice. Very good for a country 
breeding. 

And. I think it very good for any- 
where breeding. 

Gar. But — but you must remember 
the law allows no such work so early 
in the season. 

Will. What is the law to a lawyer? 
Nothing but a mere play. Go out with 
your gun, first kill a few squirrels and 



put them in your hunting-coat pockets; 
then let the next be a grouse, and 
when you go to pick it up, look around; 
if you see anyone, why, throw it under 
a bush and lift a squirrel, saying, "My. 
how fat it is! What a dandy fry it 
will make," and there's your spy 
outwitted. 

Gar. Suppose there chance to be 
someone behind a tree where I cannot 
see him. Then what? 

Will. Papa says, he that would 
beat the law, without being beaten, 
must have a keen eye, a quick hand, 
and a light foot; and must know how, 
and when to use them. Now if you 
possess these good qualities, which I 
think you do, why there will be no 
danger. [Bess exchange looks 
with Gar.] 

Gar. [to El.] Go out with us and 
show us your orchard. Come on 
Andrew and Alice. 

And. I must go and look to my 
sister, [exit El., Hel., Gar., Arth., 
and Alice.] 

And. [to Mable] How do you do 
Miss Eaton? You see, I made my word 
good, [aside to Mable] But where is 
May? 

Mab. On seeing you approaching 
she decided to go and seek her cows. 

And. Then she regards not my 
visit well. 

Mab. Not so, but she thinks it too 
good a fortune to be held in belief. 

And. Where do the cows generally 
run. 

Mab. Over that hill. 

And. I'll seek my sister, and my 
sister a sister, exit- 

Emma. Willie. 

Will. Yes, mother. 

Emma. Come here — This lady wants 
you. 



24 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



Bess. Will you take a note to Mr. 
Chase? 

Will. When? Now? 

Bess. Yes, if yon will. 
• Will. Very well; I'll get my coat. 

BESS. Your coat! In this warm 
weather? 

Will. Yes ma'am, I might see a 
bear. 

Bess. What good will it do you? 

Will. A lot of good; when the 
bear comes to take me, I put the coat 
over my shoulders and thus "gx>es" I 
before him, then of course he sees the 
coat and thiuks he's got me; just then 
I run, and by the time mister bear 
finds out the trick, I am out of his 
reach, exit- 

Em. Mable, will you give some 
paper, pen, and ink to Miss Walton. 

Mab. Certainly, there they are 

[pointing to a table-] Just help 
yourself, 

Bess sits and writes— seals the 

letter- 
Re-enter Willie in under shirt, 
with a borv and arrow, and 
an eagle's wings pinned to his 
shoulders- 
Will. 

I met a youth seeking- his coat of blue 
To take a journey which is not his due 
And I bade him to stay, to sleep, to rest, 
But he declined; then 'pon his tender 

breast, 
I laid a magic lull, my power, to prove; 
For I am cupid, the great God of love, 
And such embassy by me alone is due. 
So now, it thou dost seek a lover trus 
Upon mine arrow stamp thou thy mes 

sage 
And I, directly, with love's sweetest 

rage 
Shall V his abode, to him thy vows im- 
part 
And with mine arrow pierce his loving 
heart. 



Bess. Why this boy [sticking the 
letter in the arrow] here [offering 

money] 

Will. 

Sweet lady, cupid keeps no money 

treasures, 
But does his trood work merely for 

sweet pleasures. 
Now I fly through the summer air 
To seek and win your lover fair. 

Exit- 

Scene III. An open in the for- 
est near Eaton's house- 

Enter Andrew Dayton. 

And. But with what grace she 
walks beneath these boughs 

And with no fear nor care of man or 
beast. 

Why should she? Even the most hun- 
dred bear 

Or panther would but be amazed at 
the sight 

Of such a form and tremble like the 
helpless lamb — 

There calling her cows. Exit behind 
a tree- 
Enter May Ames at a distance- 

May. Sook! Sook! Sook! come boss 

come 
My land, I can't find them! — 
Yes — Mable says he coming to see me. 
Though he is, what of that? His 

father's rich, 
They say, then, he will never marry me. 
What! Comes he merely for a curiosity? 
Let him come, though he'll find but 

little to see, 
Yet this same li1tl<; shall hold up his 

eyes 
As holds the water the light floating 

bubbles — 
Ah, poor me! So young to commence 

my troubles — 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



25 



Bah, his eyes are not bees nor have so 

sharp a sting. 
Then I'll forget him, be merry and 

sing. 
Sings- 

who's he that would take, 
Take me to some great city, 

If not for love, for pity, 
For here my heart would break. 
Would break, 

Would break, 

Would break. 

1 am tired of th' mountain steep; 
Of shrubs, of maple vines; 

Of this great ocean of pines, 
Beneath whose waves I weep. 
I weep, 

I weep, 

I weep. 
I'm tired of th' shady grove; 
And tired of singing birds, 
Because no human words 
E'er speak of life, of love. 
Of love, 

Of love, 
Of love. 

And. [Advancing-] I will, I 
will, I will. 
May. Oh there he is! Well, I'll 
make him believe 
That I care not "abit" for him. — You 

will? 
Will you? Now I don't know about 

that, sir — 
You are either very good or very bad. 
And. What makes you think so? 
May. Your speaking with so much 
familiarity 
With strangers, sir. 

And. You're not a stranger to me 
though I am to you. 

May. Then you must surely be a 
saint, for saints 
Are, t'my poor knowledge, Th' only 

beings that 
Know us who don't know them. Then 

tell me, 
Sweet saint, Am I remembered in 



heaven? 
And. If any of us mortals is there 
thought of, 
You're surely thrice remembered. 
But no, I'm not a saint, yet I know 
you. 
May. What! not a saint and 
know me? 
Then you're a wizard, to be sure, I 

conjure thee, 
Go thou thy way and leave me in 

peace — 
That is it, laugh your fill — You city 

fellows 
Come to the country in a summer's 

vacation; 
Seek the society of country girls, 
Go back and say how simple and 

foolish 
They were, how you made them be- 
lieve how you 
L*oved them; and what a lovely time 
you had — 
And. That may be the case with 
some city fellows, 
Not with all. At least, 'tis not so 
with me. 
May. You're an exception then, 
yet we all have 
A fair opinion of ourselves 
And if my eyes deceive me not, you 

are 
As I think, very well conceited your- 
self. 
And. Perhaps I am, yet I would 
beg your hearing. 
I am seeking a sister, whom I love 

well, 
Who, in pursuit of some wild flower, 

has, 
Perchance, lost her way in the forest 

here. 
Believe me; 

I wish no more harm to befall you than 
her. 



26 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



May. My mother says that 

Good wishes are e'en better than rich 

gifts, 
For rich gifts are oft given with bad 

wishes, 
Which makes them be most worthless; 

but good wishes 
Are never made less, though with poor 

gifts given. 
So, now, I thank you very, very, much 
For your good wishes if — if — they are 

good. 
And. If they are good! You don't 

suppose that I 
Wish my own sister any evil, do you? 
May. No, yet I much doubt it. Me- 

thinks I have 
A brother who, if he had thought me 

lost, 
Would never pause until he had me 

found; 
Meanwhile each deep ravine, each 

rocky height, 
With th' ringing echo of his searching 

voice, 
Would never cease calling my name: 

but you, 
You seem not much alarmed. 

And. 'Tis hardly time to be so. 

She left us 
But a few minutes past. 

May. No matter; danger does not 

always lie 
In length of time. 

And. 'Tis true, but there can be no 

more harm 
For her wherever she be than 'tis 

here for you — 
You seem not to regard my coming 

well? 
May. Your coming? 
And. Yes, I came for no other 

purpose here 
But to make your acquaintance — 
May. I thought you were seeking 



your sister. 
And. I mean from town here. May 

I hope — 
May. Hope! There is nothing that 
you may hope for 
For I am no more than you (yet no 

l^ss.) 
But if you do wish to make my 

acquaintance, 
Go to my parents; they are still my 
keepers. 
And. But they will not believe me. 
May. Then I believe you not. 
And. That much I feared, yet 

If true love will a maiden win, yon 
shall be mine. 
May. And if with such you'll seek, 
true love shall not decline — 
But if with cunning way and crafty 

lay, 
You shall then waste each day and 
lose the play 
Sook! sook! sook! Exit- 
And. All she fears is my father's 
wealth. I wish 
He were a fisherman, a shoemaker, 
Or that he had some other occupation 

led 
By which he could no more than earn 
his daily bread. 

Exeunt- 
Scene IV. Harry Chase is cook- 
ing on his campfire in another 
part of the forest. 

Har. [Turning a pancake in 
the frying pan] O, but I'm hungry 
I think 'tis done [Gets an empty 
oat sack, and spreads it upon 
the ground, gets tin dishes, tea 
meat and etc- Sits on the ground, 
pauses thinking-] 
Yes, to remember when you are for- 
gotten, 
To think, when you are not thought 
of, 'tis sad, 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



27 



Sad, only sad, but when you love — 
Enter Will Eaton. 
Will. You are silly as a ram, and 
know 
Not which is morn or noon, or night 

or day; 
You think the sun the moon, the 

moon, the sun; 
And take the stars for ewes' eyes. 

What, at supper? 
Why man, that is the sun not the 

moon. 
Wake up! wake up! 

Har. O, quit your fooling, for I 
am without 
Breakfast and dinner. 

Will. Are you hungry, then? 
Har. Yes I am hungry and angry. 
Will. And sad, too 
Har. Yes, and sad, too. 
Will. Here {Gives the letter] 
disinter your joys from that 
envelope 
And bury there your stinging sorrows, 
boy. 
Har. A letter from mother. 
Will. Yes, farmers often call their 
wives mothers, 

Har. [recognizing the writing] 
Who gave it you? 

Will. She that wrote it. 
Har. Where? . 

Will. In Eaton's house. 

Har. How came she there? 
Will. In a wagon. Har. I know, 
but how? 

Will. Sitting, standing or lying. 
One of three it must have been, but I 
know not which. For further know- 
lege read the letter, that is, if you are 
not love blind; if you are, why, give it 
me I'll read it for you. 

Har. No, I am not so far gone yet 
[reads to himself 1 



Will. So you won't give it me? It 
does not matter. 
Much better can I read it through 

those smiles, 
Those plain expressions in your un- 

controll'd face, 
Than I could through the delicate 

writing 
To whose long studied phrases I might 

need 
Good Webster's definitions;but as it is, 
All in it self is well defined — Poor 

man! 
So deep is he hid in the mists of love, 
So overwhelm'd, so much confused in 

each word, 
That even my loud speaking is not 
heard. 
Har. Yes, I shall go. [talcing up 
dishes etc-] 

Will. No longer hungry? well, 

I wish I were an old man, and had ten 

sons 
Somewhat like you and all likewise in 

love. 
If so, and were they willing to work, 
I would, in a few years, be a million- 
aire; 
For all my wheat and cattle could I 

sell 
To profit, all, with no expense t' 

speak of, 
Save few cheap garments to keep them 

in shape. 
As for food, I'd need not to buy meat 

nor flour. 
Nor any other vituals would I glean. 
Since you all could grow fat on love's 

wasted lean. 
Again, not heard! So loud's the voice 

of love 
That stills all else in this worlds noisy 
move. 

Exit- 



28 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



Har. Perhaps she didn't receive 
my letters — 
Tell her; Willie, that I will soon be 

there — 
Why, is he gone? [Exit ivith dishes 
etc-} 

Enter Etta Dayton^ 
Etta. This, I think, is the place 
where I heard voices, 
Yet as my poor judgment led my foot 

astray, 
So might my ear with fancied sounds 

lead me 
Still farther off my way. — But look 

there! There's 
A shepherd's tent! Woe is me! For 

they say 
That shepherds do address themselves 

to ladies 
Most gross when chance to meet them 
all alone 

Re-enter Chase- 
Har. Am I worthy of you wander- 
ing so far. 
Etta . S ir— I — I— 
Har. I beg your pardon. I mistook 

you for another. 
Etta. I'm just arrived from town 
for a short outing 
In company with my brother and a 

fe;v friends. 
And as we stopped at Mrs. Eaton's 

house, 
To gather some wild flowers, I alone 
Did climb the hill which over brows 

the cottage. 
From the top of this hill came I not 

far, 
But when turned to go back, I did not 

know 
Which way I had come, as there were 

many paths 
I had not noticed while ascending. 

Thus, 
Since four this afternoon, have I 



wandered, 
Not knowing where. 

Har. [looking at his watch] 
Why it is half past six. 

Etta. My, it will be dark ere I can 
get back! 
Will you please tell me the way to the 
place? 

Har. 'Tis fully two miles to it, but 
think not 
Of walking back, for you must doubt- 
less 
Be tired o' your weary travel, come 

and rest 
You in my tent awhile — I'll to a mead 
Which is near by; there have I two 

horses 
That we can well ride. 

Etta. Thanks shepherd, I cannot 

ride — 
Har. [aside] Shepherd! 
Etta. If you'd tell me the way, 
I'm sure I could 
Walk it ere night. 

Har. I understand you well, young 
lady. There 
Toward the flaming sun lies your lost 

way. 
Descend the hill and when you come 

to a path, 
Foot you it, downward, closely, it 

leads straight 
To a cool spring which rises by the 

root 
Of a tall pine; (there you may drink 

and rest 
Without the fear of shepherds) at the 

foot 
Of this pine you will see three well 

tracked trails, 
Take the one to the left and follow it 

nigh 
Until you come to th' road; then to the 

right 
Which is the way to your good friend; 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



29 



but if 
You doubt these words as you do the 

speaker, then, 
Take what way you will — I am going. 

exit. 

Etta. O, shame, shame, that I 
should think on the evil 
Which he thought not of! It is good 

for me 
To wander lost since kindness I abuse 
And in time of need such a help 
refuse. exit- 
Re-enter pursued by a bear. 
Etta. Oh! O help! help! 
Re-enter Chase at a distance, 
fires two shots, the bear falls, 
dies, Etta swoons- 

Har. Now willngly goes she into 
the tent 
Which but 'while past she did refuse 

to bent 
[Discovering her] My God; Have 
I killed her? 
{Standing over her with arms 
crossed. ] 
How many loves are there that touch 

men's hearts? 
A thousand, if not more, and each of 

which 
Seems great; but when the proper one 

arrives 
How little are they all! Here is a 

face 
Not much above the average, either 
In beauty or in size, yet to me 
As beautiful, as great as every — 
Ah! here love I forever {examining 

the bear] 
There are the two wounds [Etta re~ 
covering,] 
Etta. What is this. Where am I — 

O, I see it all — 
Har. Are you hurt? 
Etta. No, I am frightened only, 
and 'tis well 



That I should be since your kindness 
I mistrusted. 
Har. Not so, you spoke according 
to your 
Own situation, and I am the one 
To be blamed for speaking so hastily. 
But let us think of our faults only 

with 
The thought of doing better in the 

future — 
Are you able to ride? 
Etta. Yes, I will try. 
Har. I'll get the horse. Wait here, 

I shall not be long. exit. 
Etta. I have oft heard some people 
say that loye 
Needs no acquaintance old, nor does it 

wait 
For friendly introduction; but alone 
Seeks its own course wherever it lists: 
This, I believed not until to-day — 
[seeing a letter] A letter! [seeing 

the address. ] 
Harry Chase! She! She wrote it! 
Thanks that I'm able to undo her 
plans. 

Re-enter Chase- 
Here is a letter. Is it yours? 
Har. Yes, thank you. 
Etta, [aside] I will tell him now — 
Do you think that she loves you still? 
Har. She! Who? 
Etta. She that wrote that letter. 
Har. Why, I— I don't— 
[Within] Who! ha-a! 
Ftta. It is my brother's voice. I'm 
here Andy! 

Enter Andrew. Etta advances to- 
ward him. 

And. How in the name of heaven 

came you here. 
Etta. I have been lost and came in 
here pursued 
By that bear which would have killed 
me had it 



30 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



Not been for Mr. Chase [aside to 
And-] I thank him kindly. 
And. My name is Andrew Dayton, 
Mr. Chase. 

They shake hands. 
I have no words to thank you for the 

deed 
You have so bravely done, but let the 

future 
Speak them through deeds of friend- 
ship true. 
Har. My friend, you have nothing 
to thank me for. 
For I did but my duty — There are two 

horses. 
Ride one, your sister the other. They 
are both gentle. 
And. And you? 

Har. I'll foot the way — Come, come 
your sister needs rest. Exit- 

Etta. How kind he is — Harry Chase! 
And. Come, Ftta, we must begone. 

Exeunt 
Scene V.— The same as the III.s 
Act I. 

Enter Bess and Harry. 
Bess. Your countenance is fallen; 
your gaze 
Refuses to meet mine, is it, O say! 
Is it possible that I am no longer 
welcome? 
Har. Through thinking that I had 
— had been forgotten 
I did forget, and now my meeting you 
Is as the meeting of a stranger. 
Bess. A stranger! 
Har. Yes, if not worse, for I wrote 
you five letters 
And you did not e'en to one make 
answer — 
BESS. A stranger! 
Har. Why, yes, a stranger would 
have been more kind. 
BESS. You look upon your reasons, 
I,pon mine 



I wrote to you not only five letters. 
But five times five, and all without an 

answer. 
Yet, did I ne'er for a moment think 
You so unkind. For ten long months 

I fought 
Between despair and hope; sometimes 

thinking 
That you might have forgotten me 

and loved 
Another; sometimes that my letters 

might 
Have failed to reach you: if failed to 

reach you, 
'Twas not your fault, if in love with 

another 
You're not unkind. Why should I 

think you so? 
If you love me no longer, 'tis because 
1 don't possess those merits you re- 
quire: 
Then, I can but be sorry for my faults; 
Water my sorrow with my tears; and 

love 
You ever the same. 

Har. Weep not so, but explain, how 

you came here. 
Your letters, mine; how lost? by whom 

destroyed? 
Bess. I had an opportunity to come 
In company with Alice Swift. 
I came, it was not so much for the 

sake 
Of traveling but hoped to meet you 

and ask 
An explanation. Instead of that you 
Ask it of me — Your letters and mine 

were lost, 
But how and where I cannot say. 
Har. Is not your father still the 

postmaster 
Of the place? 
BESS. Yes. 

Har. And did he not oppose our 
correspondence? 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



31 



BESS. He did once show dislikness 

of it. 
Har. He knows what became ot 

our letters. 
Bess. I see it all now. O, you look 
so sad! 
Am I in your way? O speak! speak the 

truth. 
If so, I shall soon be out of your sight. 
Har. N-n-no — 

Bess. O say not no, if you mean it 
not so; 
For in a nunnery I could be happier, 
Knowing - that you were happy; than 

were you 
To love me but for pity's sake! — -Are 
you free? 
Har. I was, until after receiving 

your note. 
BESS. Ah, you love me still! 
Har. Yes. as much as I can. [they 

embrace] 

BESS. O, you don't know how happy 
I am now. 

Har. Do you like the West? 

BESS. I like all places wherever 

you are, but, 
You know that there is "no place 

like home." 
Har. Very well, we shall, in a 

week's time, leave 
These rocky heights -and once more 

to the sunny South. 
BESS. Someone is calling, let us to 

the house. 
Har. No, I must go to camp ere 

dark. 
Bess. Shall you return to-night? 
Har. No. 
Bess. Good bye till morning, then. 

exit- 

Har. O what a double-hearted, 

double faced 
Villian am I! Until but two hours 

past, 



With breaking heart in silence weep- 
ing bitter, 
Thinking her false, and asking why 

should she 
Be so, I thought I loved. Was it love, 

then? 
O no,'twas nothing but love's lightest 
shadow — 

Enter Etta. 
You should be resting, Miss Dayton. 
Etta - Not while you are in danger. 
Har. In danger! Who's in danger? 
Enter Gar. hides behind a tree- 
Etta. You. 

Har. I? 

Etta. I wish to heaven you were 
not. 

Har. You make my hair stand on 
end; speak it out. 

Etta. Do you think she loves you? 
Har. She, who? 

Etta. She who, but now protested 
so much. 

Har. I know she does. 
Etta. She is false! She loves 
your money, not you. 
Gar. [aside] I did suspect some- 
thing crooked but not 
So badly curved. 'Tis good plan to 
hear it. 
Etta. Raise a rumor that your 
money was lost through 
Investments, or that you were robbed 

and see 
How long her love will last 

Har. That would be a poor way of 
finding out — 
E'en were she as true as Evangeline, 
With so much love and patience t > 

rule it. 
She could not help but be a little 

angry 
And think me a poor, foolish, financier 
Etta. Then put a report in the 
morning daily 



32 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



Saying- that you have gambled it all. 
Har. Were she to love me after 

such a deed 
It would break my heart knowing- her 

such a fool — 
But let me be frank and tell you the 

truth; 
I'm going to marry this girl because 
I cannot get the one I love, and if she 
Has the same motive, I am justly 

matched. 
But no — she is true, and I — I am false! 
Good bye. 

Etta. Stay, if the truth must be 

told, listen now 
She is engaged to Albert Swift who, 
Now at home with pretended illness 

lies, 
And she, instructed by his elder 

brother, 
Came to renew that old lost love in 

order 
To lead you to some lonely room, drug 

you; 
And rob you. 

Har Have I heard what I heard, 

or was it a dream? 
You speak the truth; she truly spoke, 

yet, one 
Of you lied. Which? I cannot tell. 

Her I have, 
For long years, known, and always 

knew her true; 
You, but for two hours. Now, which 

one should I 
Believe best; 'tis beyond my judgment; 

here, 
I pause and I'll not decide, but rather 

take 
Upon me your device. L,et gain or 

loss 
Be the result; I care not which, for 

either 
To me means loss, since by gaining I 

lose, 



And by losing I nothing gain. So here 
Shall I remain with her and play the 

lover 
With as much skill as I know how, 

and with her 
I shall go into town; draw my money; 
Play drunk; sit at the gambling table; 

and 
Protest that I have lost all which I 

had. 

If this produces the effect you speak of; 

I shall forever be your truest friend — 

Now we part and speak no more of it. 

Exuent. 

Gar. [advancing] My secret 

was told or heard 
But it does'nt matter I can do much 

better. 
I'll to the saloon keeper; have him 

doped, 
And there! exeunt- 

Act II. 

Scene— In the South. 
Scene I.— A bedroom in Long 

worth's house- Longworih 

sick in bed.— Three o'clock 

A.M. 
Long. [To a servant-]Show him in. 
Exit ser. Enter James Gosson- 
I am very glad to see you my dear 

boy. 
Come, sit here by my side. 

James. And I am no less glad to 

see you sir. 
How is your health? 

IvONG. My boy 1 shall soon, very 

soon, begin 
That journey which we so much 

fear the starting. 
Bui let it be forgotten. Now speak 

you 
Of my daughter and her husband. 
How are they? 

James. Of your four daughters 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



33 



shall I speak, sir, 
I've heard that you have disinherited 
Two of them. Is it so? If so, why? 
Long. Because they disobeyed me. 
Jamse They disobeyed you to obey. 
Long. To obey? 
James. Even so, sir. 

Long 1 . How so? 

James. Which is the greater sin: to 
disobey 
God or man? 

Long. God! God! Before all men, 
but my young friend, 
Your question does not concern my 
daughters. 
James. It does, according to my 
meaning, sir — 
The highest gift from God to men 

is love, 
And when 'tis offered it should be 

accepted; 
Followed as directed; sacredly kept 
Through all the changes and con- 
tempts of time; 
And held as dearly in loss as in gain. 
This, have your daughters done, 
and by so doing 
Obeyed God. 
Long. Obeyed God! 
James. Yes, why doubt it? Be- 
cause they loved poor men? 
Although they did, wer'nt these 

men honorable 
And have they not always been? — Sir, 

honor is 
A lamp which luminates both body 

and soul. 
But wealth does shine only before the 

mortal eye. 
Now, let me say to you that these poor 

men 
Through honest toil have earned the 

means t' provide 
For the necessities of life. Then is not 
Fnough as good as is more than 



enough? 
'Tis better, sir. 
If wealth would give health to the 

sick, and life 
To th' dying, you would not be lying 

here. 
Long. It is true, very true — but — 
James. Good can't love evil; evil 

will not good love; 
Therefore your daughters being good 

could not 
Love evil men. They have done as 

they ought 
And have shown an example to the 

world 
By not fearing to fight the battle of 

life, 
And bravely toil with them whom 

they love. 
Long. But to think that my child- 
ren have been under 
The heavy burden of restless toil! 
James. Sir, idleness is the heaviest 

thing upon 
The earth; toil the lightest, for the 

former makes 
The lightest substance sink, while the 

latter 
Makes the heaviest float. Then take 

the fact as 'tis 
And do forgive them that you may 
With lighter heart forgiveness ask. 
Long. You have taught me the 

lesson which I should teach! 
Go and bring me a notary public. 
And I will change my will. 
James- 'Thanks, 'twill not be the 

thoughts of land or gold 
That will make them be happy but the 

the fact 
Of knowing that they were'nt forgot- 
ten. 

Exeunt- 
Scene II Boise, Idaho. Two 
rooms in a saloon, gambling and 



34 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



bar room. A door from B. R- 
leading to G- R- Bar keeper be- 
hind thebar- Several drunkards 
sleeping on chairs- Gamblers 
playing at dice in B. R- etc- Ent- 
er Gar Swift- 

B. K. Well, did you see him? (aside) 

Gar. Yes, he is coming'. Have you 
the dope ready? 

B. K. You bet, I have. 

Gar. Is the gambling- room locked? 

B. K. You bet your neck, it is. 
Here is the key. 

Gives the key to Gar. Exit Gar, 
through B- R- door- Enter in G. 
R- Puts on false beard and hair, 
sits at G. table- Enter Harry 
Chase in bar room, dressed as 
cowboy- 

Harrv [aside to B. K.] Drink! drink, 
drink. — I've lost twelve thousand to- 
night and must win it back, or lose the 
rest I have, which is but two hundred. 
Lead me to a gambling table. 

B. K. What will you have? 

Har. Whiskey for luck, [drinks- 
B. K. leads him into G . R. door- 
enter Har. into G. R.] 

Har. Are you a gambler? 

Gar. No, but I gamble. 

Har. Sit there and deal. Put your 
money there on the table and look 
wise for I am a cracker jack. 

[Aside] I don't like the looks of 
this fellow. I must get out here — But 
before we play I must go out through 
this back door. 

Gar. Let us first play a hand. 

Har. But I must go now! 

Gar. The door is locked. 

Har. Open it! 

Gar. I haven't the key, but listen- 

Har. Listen nothing, [starting] 

Gar. [Getting hold of his arm] 
There are two fellows— 



Gar. And both thieves [pulls off 
his beard and discovers A Swift] 
O, is that you [drawing a revolver] 
Now open that door, or — [staggers 
and falls. ] *' • , ' , i '• 

Gar. Now, dream [Searching 
Har-'s pockets] here it is, let us see 
how much — twelve thousand and two 
hundred. Now I wish that brother of 
mine would come-on — Enter Al Swift 
through the back door- 

Here take these home and look not 
back. 

Ai<. Lest I should turn to salt and 
the— 

Gar. Go! hurry! Exit A I- 
through back door- 

Now if I can make the bar keeper 
believe that he had but two hundred — 
two hundred, not much! one hundred, 
there! that is enough. 

B. K. [In B. R-] It is twelve 
o'clock boys I must shut up. Exeunt 
from B- R. to street door all save 
B. K. who goes in G- R- 

B. K. How much? 

Gar. One hundred There is fifty. 

B. K. Good. Now, let us take him 
to the alley. 

Exeunt with Har- 

Scene III. Same- A front room 
in Dayton's house- Enter Etta 
Dayton. 

Etta. The sun is not yet risen. I 
wonder if the morning paper is being 
delivered. 

Exit through the front dooi — 
Re-enter with the paper- 

O, here it is. 

Reads. Gambled away twelve thousand 
dollars. Harry Chase, who two weeks past 
sold a gold mine for fifteen thousand dollars, 
came into town yesterday; drew twelve thousand 
from the bank (perhaps all he had left); went 
through the gambling- houses; and last night at 
twelve o'clock appeared in a saloon with but 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



35 



two hundred. It is supposed he lost that too, as 
he was enquiring- for a new gambling- place — 

Who's he in so much haste that 
rides so fast? [Looking through 
the window] There is the horse 
standing- alone! No rider? 

Enter Harry Chase. 
Har. No doubt, you didn't expect 
to see me again 
But here I am, and here purposed to 

come 
And see you, had I to fight my way 

through. 
I came, young lady, to bid you good 

bye 
And also to thank you for your kind- 
ness. 
Etta O, I did but what I should 

have done. 
Har. And when did I to you do so 
much wrong 
That you should thus reward me? Say! 
Etta. I understand you not. 
Har. It is as easy to misunder- 
stand, 
As it is to deceive them that trust us; 
But I blame you not, yet, if 'twas my 

money 
You really wanted, why not told me 

so? 
I would, with all my heart, have given 

it 
To you. Then, there was no need of 

you being 
So cruel false to me. 
Etta. False to you! 
Har. As false as darkness to the 
traveler's foot. 
And so was I to her that loved me 

true — 
Yes, you did as you should have done. 

I well 
Deserve it! Thank you, and good-bye 
forever! exit- 
Etta. Peahaps Swift over heard 



me and has taken 
The advantage of my discourse — 
Whether Swift or some one else, I 

know not; but 
That he was robbed, 'tis true, and for 

that reason 
He thinks me false upon which cir- 
cumstances 
He thinks right, but not true. Now, 

what am I 
To do? Sit here and weep, or stand- 
ing mute, 
And still as a statute? No, I'll go to 

him. 
[Goes to the phone] Rus 579— 
Hello — sidesaddle the fastest horse you 
have — Yes, now. exit- 
Enter Robert Dayton. 
I thought I heard her talking here 

alone — 
Yes, there is something wrong, for 

ever since 
She come back from the mountains I 

have seen 
Her in the garden wandering about 
The lawn with no particular course; 

pausing 
And picking flowers; plucking their 

petals; 
And scattering them all around near 

by 
Until the ground about her feet was 

decked 
With their destroyed beauties: then 

eastward 
Would she turn, fastening her gaze 

upon 
The mountains where she had been, 

as though she 
Had either found or lost a great hope 

there — 
She won't have ought to do with 

Doctor Swift, 
A splendid young man who has a 

bright future 



36 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



Before him; no, no, but instead, has 

met 
Some wild cow-boy or worthless 

shepherd 
And at first sight fallen in love with 

him! 
Just like her, jus like her! O 'tis sad 

t' be 
The father of such an unreasonable 
And stubborn girl! so foolishly in- 
clined! 
But by the name I bear, she shall obey 
My will or leave the house at once! 

We'll see. 
Etta! Etta! What! What! Not in the 
house? 
Enter. A stable keeper's boy' 
Boy. No sir and never'll be until 
you send 
The most skill'd rider, th' lightest, 

and the best 
On Rody, Jones's race horse; for now 

she rides 
The next fastest. 

Rob. What do you mean? 
Boy. I mean,sir,that your daughter, 
Etta Dayton, but a few minutes past 
ordered the fastest horse in our barn 
to be side-saddled;and as soon as I was 
pinching the last buckle through she 
came in, sir, with her hair floating 
down her back and in a great haste, 
with the quickness of a cowboy, leaped 
into the saddle; then like a winged 
goddess flew she through the open 
door and in the twinkling of an eye 
was out of sight. 
What! my daughter? 
Even she, sir. 

Go and saddle two of the fastest 
horses you have left. Go! 

boy goes to the phone. 
Rus 5-7-9— Is that you father? 
Mr. Dayton wants two of the fastest 
and longest winded horses to be man- 



saddled, right quick! [To Dayton] 
Do 3'ou want any blood hounds, rifles 
and revolvers? 

Rob. Who gave you the privilege 
of using that phone? You stable mop — 
you horse manure pile you! Do as I 
tell you and as I tell you only. Go! 
[Enter Andrew Dayton] Your father 
has the four winds in his lungs this 
morning. Eook out for a hurricane! 
exit- 

Your sister, as 1 hear, is leaving 
town on horse back. Go to Swift's 
house and ask Arthur to accompany 
you; then to Brown's barn where I 
have ordered two saddle horses. 
Seek her out and bring her home! 
Do you hear? 
And. Yes sir. exeunt- 
Scene IV. A room in Swift's 
house- 
Enter Garrett and Arther Swift. 
Art. So lightly came you in last 
night, that I 
In my light slumbering heard not 

your coming" — 
Why man! Your eyes are hollowed as 

though 
Filled with much fear or voided of 

sleep. Tell me: 
How fared you in your enterprise? 
Gar. Ill, ill; yet well — I caught him 
by four hundred 
Times three, and each one hundred 

with nine by; 
Besides two odds from which some 

fifty I 
Gave to the great god of wine to stay 
his cry. 
Art. That was the well; now of the 

ill — reply. 
Gar. Look you in all the corners 

with a keen eye? 
Art. With as keen an eye as an 
X-ray. Why? 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



37 



Gar. You know we were once over- 
heard by a spy. 
Art. But the tale she heard and 
told brought us more nigh 
To th' treasures we sought and gave 
it a richer dye - 
In i's I could rhyme you out but I 
won't try 
For I'm too anxious t' know what 

makes you sigh 
And start at every sound both low and 

high. 
E'en when the robin sings its lullaby 
And yellow breasted larks wi' their 

chirlree — i 
To meet the rising sun t'ward heaven 

fly 
And tooting owls t' their night-a-day 

do hie 
You start as though you were about to 

die — 
Be brave though cowardice within 

you lie 
Come, tell me what ills have upon you 
fallen. 
Gar. He discovered me. 
Art. Who? Chase? 
Gar. Yes — Speak not so loud. 
Art. Were you seen by any one 
else? 

Gar. No, not upon the action. 
Art. Have you read this morning's 
paper? 

Gar. I have. 

Art. Did he himself acknowledge 
the same? 
Gar. He did. 
Art. Can it be proved? 
Gar. It can. 

Art. Well, then, the law has no 
hold on us. 

Gar. The law is not what I fear 
but him! him! 
Him I fear, for I know he is daring. 
Art. O pshaw! I could hold him 



up with a corncob — 
And make him beg for life. 

Enter Andrew Dayton. 
My sister, I presume, 's out for a 
mornings ride 
But father thinks she runs away from 

home 
And in great haste sends me to you. 

The horses 
Are ready. If you are willing to com 
Come, let us hurry on the way. 
Gar. Which way is she going? 
And. No way in particular I think 

— Will you go? 
Art. Yes. 
And. Get ready and meet me at 

Brown's stable, exit- 
Gar. Now, ten to one she is going 
with Chase. 
You'd better stay at home. 

Art. No, it suits me well if she is. 
I hate him. 
And now is my chance to revenge. 
To Chase! 
Gar. Then take with you your 
corncob for you shall need it ere long. 
Art. So I will [showing a revol- 
ver} here it is. 

Exit Art. enter a message boy. 
_Boy. Here, sir, a telegram for you. 
exit. 

Gar. Reads— Your father-in-law, very ill 
Come with wife — J. Gosson. 

Well, if he's very ill he shall soon die 
If well, it is a trap to catch me by 
Nevertheless I'll this adventure try 
So to-night we shall leave, my wife 

and I 
And meet the consequences — Enter 
Bess Steavens. 

What news bring you beneath that 
lovely smile! 
BESS. I could not tell their quality 
Gar. Did you meet Chase this 
morning? 



38 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



Bess. No, but saw him leave the 
stable on horse back. 
He rode up to the hotel and paused 
As though he would dismount; but 

suddenly 
With his spured heels flanked he his 

horse 
And loped away toward the mountains; 

then, 
While trying- to find reasons for this 

move, 
Ag-ain, from th' same stable, follow- 
ing 
The same way, saw I Etta Dayton 

riding 
As fast as he. 

Gar. I thought the same. 
BESS. What made you think so? 
Gar. Not here, let us go to another 
room 
More secrete than this. I have many 

things 
To tell you in short. 
Bess. Ha, very well, I had forgot- 
ten that 
This room tells tales, exeunt. 

Scene v. The same as the IV in 
act I. 

Enter Mable and May. 
May. 1 wish we had not come so 
far 'twill storm 
Before we can get home. 
Mab. O, it will not storm long, and 
if it will, 
We can go into Harry's tent and let it 
storm. 
May. O yes, I had forgot his tent, 
himself, 
And all the world besides. 

Mab. All but yourself and Mr. 
Dayton. 

May. Do you think he loves me? 

Mab. I know he does. 

May. Will he be true? 

MaB. He can but be true since he 



loves you true. 
May Now, tell me what do you 

think love is? 
Mab. I cannot tell for they have 
given it 
All the names known to tongue, unless 

I'd call 
It everything, yes, love is everything. 
May. No, love's impatience all in 
tears, 
Groans, sighs, hopes and fears. 

Mab. Experience speaks that, not 

you. 
May. Experience experiments do 
seek: 
Hadn't you experience, thus you could 
not speak — 

Enter Will. 
Wii„i v . Two lassies loved to look 
Into a babbling brock, 
Look, with an eye so sharp and keen 
In th' other eye in th' mirror seen, 
That it did cut the water deep 
And made a tear in that eye t' peep. 
Then, said each to herself. "What a 

grace 
If that eye was in some lad's face! 
If so, I'd look and look 
Until this babbling brook 
Would run itself all dry, 
Destroy the face and the eye, 
Then with tears all in pain 
I'd make it flow again 
And in each bubbling pan 
Would be a lad or I a man — 

May. O quit your silly rhyming, 
give us a song 
To make us gay for we are very sad. 
Wli.1.. A song, a silly song, i.s not 
so bad. 
Sings- 

If you'll come on and follow me 
To yonder hill where stands that pine 

I'll give you drink o' the graveled spring 
That flows near by where fawns recline. 
Come follow me, 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



39 



Unto the shade, 

That summer leaves have made; 
Come follow me, 
Come follow me. 

The fawns, I'll startle to their fight; 
You'll watch them run a far away. 
We shall hear song's of sweet delight 
That birds sing- in a summer day. 
Come follow me, 
Unto the shade, 
That summer leaves have made; 
Come follow me, 
Come follow me. 

Here, take my hand, I'll lead the way 
To a grassy slope beneath that hill: 
Thitlier with nature old and gray, 
I shall, forever, be 3 r our Will. 
Come follow me, 
Unto the shade, 

That summer leaves have made; 
Come follow me, 
Come follow me. 

I'll be your lover, you my lass. 

I'll make you garlands o' lilies blue, 
And we shall sleep upon the grass 
And dream the dreams of lovers true. 
Come follow me, 
Unto the shade, 
That summer leaves have made; 
Come follow me, 
Come follow me. 

May. Sings- 

No, sir, I shall not follow you 

To yonder hill where stands that pine, 
I cannot be your lassy true, 
For I'm your sister, brother mine. 
Ask her to go, 

Unto the shade, 

That summer leaves have made; 
Ask her to go. 
Ask her to go. 

Mab. Sings- 

No, I, too, shall not follow him, 

Because a storm's approaching nigh. 
The grass '11 be wet the sun '11 be dim. 
And I'll catch cold, get sick and die.— 
You go alone, 

Unto the shade, 

That summer leaves have made; 
You go alone, 
You go alone. 
Will. But I'll not be alone, for 
look! there comes 



The goddess of storms riding- her pony 
Up yonder hill — Look here 'tween these 

two firs, 
And you shall see how gracefully she 

rides;' 
How her most beautiful hair waves in 

the wind — 
O her horse swoons! It can no farther 
go 
Mab. and May. My! 
Will, Hush! hush! and listen to 
her cry of woe 
Look now! Dismayed alights she 

from her steed 
And leaves it on the mountain side to 

feerl, 
While on foot she pursues her way, 

alone — 
Her aim, perchance's lost by delay, by 
speed won. 
Mab. I wonder who she might be? 

Enter Harry Chase. 
May. Harry! 

Will. What! Harry in a woman t s 
clothes? Why sister! 
What are you saying? You have 

strange ideas 
In your head since you met Andrew 

Dayton — 
So great is the change when one is in 
love! 
Har. Good day, you happy crowd. 
I'm sorry that 
I should be the first one to bring the 

news 
Which will take you apart for some 

short time. 
Or perhaps long, however, I must tell 

you. 
Yes — [To Mab.] I just brought from 

town, a telegram 
From your grand-father who is very 

ill, 
And who desires to see your mother, 
you, 



40 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



An' your father ere he dies;so prepara- 
tions 
Have been made, and you'll start to- 
night. 
Now, haste you all t'ward home- 
Good-bye Mable. 
Mab. Why aren't you coming home 

with us? 
Har. No, I have some work to do 
this forenoon — 
A good-bye here is as sad as else- 
where. 
Mab. Yes, sad, indeed, and dark, 
for when we say 
Good-bye we know not when to meet 

again 
And 'th more prolong'd the saddest 

and darkest; 
Then good-bye Harry! Forgive me the 

pranks 
Which I so often played on you, good- 
bye! 
Har. Good-bye my little friend, 
those harmless pranks 
Shall be my happiest themes in the 
future, [hissing her on the 
forehead] Good-bye! 

Exeunt all but Har. 
Har. What shall I do?— Remain 
here and face all 
The shames surrounding me? No I 

will leave 
This part of th' country for a time. O 
Willie! 
[ivithin] What? 
Har. I wish to speak to you a 
moment. 

Re-enter Will. 
I am going away to-day Willie 
And wish you'd run my cattle till I'm 
back 
Wm. When will you be back? 
Har. In the course of a year or two. 
Now go, 
Here is a letter in which I explain 



Why I am going;give it to your father. 
Good-bye Willie, my boy, good-bye. 
Will. Good-bye, Harry, I wish you 

could stay, 
Har. So do I. 
Will. Why, won't your wife live 

here with you? 
Har. My wife! 
Will. Yes, weren't you married 

last night? 
Har. No. 
Will. Then it might have been 

she we saw 
Har. She, who? Bess? 
Will. I cannot tell, but we did see 
a woman 
On horse back riding this way. 
Har. Where? 

Will. Upon the fartherst hill, 
westward, still stands 
The horse she rode, which being tired 

out, she 
Dismounted ane into the woods made 
her way 
Har. I see the horse. Was she 

alone? 
Will. Yes. 

Har. How long since you saw her? 
Will. Just as you came. 
Har. Now you must go, Willie, 

Good-bye. 
Will. Good-bye. exit- 
Har. Yes it is she. Oh what a 
wretch am I 
To be false to so noble a girl! So true! 
Oh what a fool of fools! I 
Here she comes now! I'll stay behind 

these shrubs 
And list awhile — Enter Etta Dayton. 
O heaven! O earth! and all things 
both good and evil! What can all 
this mean? 

It is not she! But she, yes, even she! 
ETTA. He is no longer here. E'en 
though he were 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



45 



home and look, as you go, to see your- 
selves in the mirrors, there on the 
wall; the young will be greatly sur- 
prised to tind that they are not yet 
gray nor bald, and the old amazed to 
see themselves still alive. 

Pehaps you still remember five 
years ago when Harry Chase left the 
mountains thinking he had killed 
Arthur Swift; if you do, I am sorry to 
say that we have not yet been able to 
know where did he go at the time 
mentioned, no where he is now. Miss 
Dayton, too, some say she entered a 
convent and later on became a nun; 
others say she is a nurse; but the 
truth is not known yet, although we 
hope to find it out in time. 

Garret Swift and Amos Eaton, with 
their wives, went South to visit Long- 
worth, their father*in-law, who died 
two weeks after their arrival. There 
they remained a year, when Mrs. 
Eaton died of a child-birth: then they 
came West again where they have 
been partners in business since then 
until yesterday when Mr. Eaton died 
after a month of illness. 

James Gosson, is now a doctor in 
Oregon. 

Will and May Ames were graduated 
after three years course in the state 
university. In that same summer 
after their graduation which was two 
years ago, May married Andrew 
Dayton, and Will went home to help 
his parents in the farm who still live 
in the same place; but to-night you 
shall find them by the riverside near 
town where they pitch their tent in 
order to be nearer to their deceased 
friend. 

Now ladies and gentlemen as you 
have been very patient listening to 
my confused statements I will try to 



please you with a song whose title is, 
"At the Dawn of Day" [crows like a 
rooster-] Exit. 

Scene I. A room in Swift's 
house. Enter Al. Swift reading a 
letter- 

At,. So she is tired of waiting, so 
am I. 

Enter Art. Swift. 

Al. Look! 

Art. A letter! From whom? 

Al. Bess, Bess. Listen. 

Reads- 

Albert Swift:— We were engaged seven >ears 
ago; two years later, preparations were made 
for our wedding, but under the circumstances 
which you well know, that same wedding was 
postponed until the following year; but when 
that year arrived another circumstance, with 
its postpone, took place in its stead; and so on 
from year to year until five years have lapsed. 

I tell you what, I am sick and tired of it, 
therefore let it take place next week or never!— 
Answer yes, or no. 

Bess Steavens. 

Art. Burn that letter before you 
take another step, and answer, yes. 

Al. [writing] Now I shall be 
just as independent as she is. 

And here it is. [reads] 

Bess Steavens:— Yes. 

Al. Swift. 

How's that for a love letter? 

Art. Rather brief, yet sufficient 

long. 
Enter Gar. Swift carrying a parcel 
Gal. [to Al.] Put on this suit, 

wrap yours in the same paper 
Al. What's up now? 
Gar. Go on. exit Al. into a 

dressing room. 
Art. I have an idea. 
Gar. What is it? 

Art. You know old Ames can do 

us much harm if he 
Wants to be ugly. Now if you have a 

plot 



46 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



For th' son, I have one for the father. 
Gar. Of what sort? 
Art. Is he still camped out by the 

riverside? 
Gar. Yes. 
Art. I'll take your nephew near 

his tent, and when 
I'm there, will make a little noise so 

that 
He may hear and come out. When I 

am seen, 
I will unsheath this dagger and make 
Believe I mean to kill the boy; then 

he— 
He will undoubtedly try to prevent it, 
Upon which action I will slightly 

wound 
The boy, clinch Ames, and swear that 

I just caught 
Him in the act o'commiting murder. 

Meanwhile 
You notify the police saying that 
The boy has disappeared from home 

and that 
I am seeking him up the river. First 
We must divide the time between us so 
There'll be no mistake on us meeting 

one 
Another at the proper time. 
Gar. The distance 'twixt here and 

the police station 
Is just ten minutes walk; from there 

to Ames' 
As far as 'tis from here. So prolong 
Your walking or wait there the time 

required. 
Art- Very well, I'll go to the sleep- 
ing boy 
Before young Ames goes home. 

Gar. It is ten now. Is he still 

here? 
Art. He still chats with your wife 

and niece. 
Gar. So much the better for the 

purpose 



Exit Art. Enter Al. 
Al. Now, what am I to do with 
this gray suit 
And hat? Is it a wedding present or — 
Gar. Will Ames still lingers here. 
As soon as he 
Goes, follow him nigh," and when you 

come to 
The cottonwood grove, tell him that 

some years 
Past you went to Alaska and left a 

girl, 
Here in to.vn. Wishing to know 

whether she 
Loves you or th' money you bring, you 

would like 
To change clothes with him if he 
would. 
Al. Suppose he will refuse? 
Gar. Offer him money. 
Al. Suppose he will accept my 
offer, what! 
Shall I put my hands in my pockets 

and search, 
And search, saying, "Why I left my 

purse at home?" 
Or shall 1 say, "I will pay you to- 
morrow?" 
Gar. Here's twenty dollars. 
At,. Should he refuse that too, 

what then? 
Gar. Force him at the muzzle of 

of your gun. 
Al. Oh! I see! I see! Re-enter 

Art. 

Gar. How is it? 

Art. Smooth and well, so far. 

Gar. Here he comes! [Gar. sits 
writing] 

Art., reads a newspaper', Al., a 
novel- 
Enter Will Ames. 

Will. Good evening gentlemen. 

All. Good evening. 

Will. I mean not to disturb you, 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



47 



yet I wish 
To bid you good-bye. 

Gar. Why, are you leaving town? 
Will. Not to-night but early in 
morning 

Gar. [Shaking hands with 
Will] 
Well then, good-bye. Whenever you 

come 
Into town make our house your home, 

for you 
Shall always be welcome, my boy. 
Will. Thanks, I shall not forget 
your kindness. Now 
I wish you all a good evening. 
All. Good-bye. Will exit. 

Al. Now like the lion bold and like 
the fox sly 
I am going to frighten, kill or die! 
Gar. Wait first until you know 

what you're to do. 
Al. More 3'et? Speak on! Speak on! 
For I this night, shall do wonders. 
Gar. When you have his clothes, 

pull them off again — 
Al. And come home in my night- 
gown. I guess not. 
Gar. Steal to his tent and leave 
them there — 
Here take these. 
Al. Oh! I see! I see! exit. 
Enter Mabie Eaton from up stairs 
dressed in black. 

Mab. My brother is not in his cot, 
he's taken! 
The window's opened with a step- 
ladder 
Standing up to it. O, go, and bring 
him back! 
Gar. Away boys! One up th' 
river, and the other 
Down, while I to the police station! 

Come! 
AwayiAlAl! There he comes through 
the garden 



Come Arthur, come! 

Exeunt- 
Scene II. Ames's camping 
grounds near the river- Enter 
J. Ames and, wife- 

John. I tell you wife, if Amos 
Eaton had 
Been treated by another doctor, he 
Would not have died so soon, or 

perhaps not 
At all for many years to come. I tell 
You what. I think he was fcrced to 
die! 
Em. Tush! tush! Remember the 
old saying. "Shame 
To him who evil thinks." 
John. Not only think I so, but 

know 'tis so. 
Em. Then shame on you to tell it 
when it is 
Too late; for you telling it now will 

neither 
Help Amos Eaton, nor harm Arthur 

Swift, 
But tire your tongue with idle talking. 
John. I ne'er suspected it but 

when too late. 
Em. Then don't suspect it now. 

Come, let us to our tent and rest in 
peace. 

Both go into the tent, 
Enter Art. Swift with Dave Eaton. 
Dav. Say won't you tell me who 

you are? 
Art. Yes, I will now. My name is 

John Ames. 
Dav. O, Mr. Ames; Willie's father? 
Art. Yes. Do you like Willie? 
Dav. O yes, he always brings me 
candy — but 
Tell me why have you blindfolded me 
for? 
Art. So you would not know your 

way back. 
Dav. Why? 



48 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



Art. Because I'm going to take you 
away 
With me to our ranch. 
Dav. O, I am glad to go with you. 
You need 
Not blind my eyes, for I will never try 
To go back there again. Won't you 

take off 
This handkerchief? Say, won't you? 
Art. Yes boy. [takes off the 

handkerchief- ] 
Dav. Say, look! the moon is on the 
top o' that tree. 
How did it go there? Do you know? 
Art. Yes, it flew there. 
Dav. Can the moon fly? 
Art. Yes. 
Dav. And can't it sing too like the 

lark? 
Art. Yes. 

Dav. I wish you'd shoot it. I would 
like to see it 
Won't you shoot it Mr. Ames? Won't 
You? 
Art. Would you like to have some 

one to kill you boy? 
Dav. No, but the moon is not I. 
Art. No matter boy I'm going to 
kill you. [takes hold of his 
arm] 
Come here, try not to run away. 

Dav. Oh! Don't kill me! Don't! 

Don't! Let go, let go! 
John Ames appears at the tent's 
door; enters the tent again; re- 
turns with a revolver in his hand' 
John. Why, it is Arthur Swift try- 
ing to kill 
Eaton's boy— Hold! Hold! L,et him go, 
I say! 
[Art. raises the dagger still 
higher as if to strike to blow- 
John. Hold!— [shoots, Art. falls] 
Art. Ah! I'm well served! Are 
they coming? 



John. They! who? Enter Emma 
Ames takes Dave. 

Art. You'll but too soon know. O 
forgive me Ames 
For this black deed! And while sitting 

alone 
In your dark prison cell, O. pray to 

God 
That my sins might forgiven be — Ah 

what 
I see no man can behold an' live again! 
Yet I may do some good. Go to your 

tent 
And bring some paper and ink. 

John. I will. Exit. Re-enter 
with paper etc-. 

Art. Alas! Alas! Too late! All's 

darkness now! dies- 
John. Dead! dead! Well let the 
paper be burnt here 
In sacrific of the good deed wished 

done 
That it's flames to the soul may show 
gleams of hope. 
Em. Alas! What have you done? 

What have you done! 
John. I have taken away one life 
to save 
Another. Which might have been the 

worse I 
Know not. Now it is done. 

Em. O flee ! flee! Enter Gar. Swift 
and two officers 

First Offi. I guess not— Put up 

your hands. 
Gar. He killed my brother, he shot 
him! 
David how came you here? [1 officer 
hand-cuffs Ames.] 

Dav. O Mr. Ames brought me 

First Off. How did he bring you? 

Dav. In his arms and he put a 

handkerchief 

Around my eyes so I could not see to 

Go back again, for he said he would 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



41 



Perhaps he wouldn't believe me. O I 

wish 
I could die! — 
Yes, here my life was saved; here I 

first loved; 
And here I'll die if I can only find 
The means with which to end my 

misery! 
Har. That means is easily found; 

here's my revolver 
And if you like not this means, whv, 

I have 
A box of strychnine which I will give 

you; 
An axe, a knife, a rope, each th' work 

will do. 
Etta. O Mister Chase I see the 

circumstances 
In which I find me; but if you would 

listen 
To me once more, I'd prove my 

innocence. 
Har. What! listen to you? No! I've 

listened once 
Too often, and in that one time 

distroyed 
My future happiness, betrayed the 

girl 
That loved me, shamed my humble 

relatives 
And — and dishonored my name! 

Etta. Alas I know it! But it was 

not my 
Intentions, nor had I the least idea — 
Har. That I'd be able to find out 

the thief— 
Ha, ha, ha, ha! O what an art in 

plotting 
You have! I much admire your skill, 

really, 
For I can't guess what you are up for 

now? 
But go on. You can do me no more 

harm. 
You have undone me to my strands' 



ends. 
Now speak as you will; mingle them 

together; 
And weave ^ach broken thread in 

what you may — 

weep not; you've done well enough; 

you shall 
Win it without tears — Come, come, 

come, speak on 
And whatsoever you will say I shall 
Nod my head, frown, and smile 

according to 
Your speaking. Come with your dis- 
course, come. 
Etta. You never will believe me! 

You mock me! 
You hate me! O my God, what shall I 

do! 
What shall I do! [sobbing] Oh! ho!ho! 

ho! ho! 
Har. Hate you? oh no; it is I whom 

I hate 
For loving you so, I loved and love 
You still, and always shall love you, 

although 

1 know, or think I know, you did me 

wrong, 
Then, it's I, who believe, you, who 

mocks and hates; 
I, who weeps laughing, you, who 

laughs weeping. 
But, what of that? A man whose high 

ambitions 
Surpass his wisdom, goes down hill 

like water. 
And as he is hurled downward, he 

swears that 
He was born under some unluckly 

planet 
And curses fate and th' day in which 

he was born 
When he, himself hath all th« blame — 

Likewise, 
I, being such a man, blame you, when I 
Alone am to be blamed. Now tell me 



42 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



this: 
Came you here to deceive again? or 

came you A 

To prove your innocence? 

Etta. To prove my innocence. 
Hak. Then let your proof your 
answer be: 
Do you love me? 

Etta. More than my life and all 

thing's under heaven. 
Arthur Swift appears behind a 
tree- 
Come then and let our losses be forgot. 
[They embrace and kiss-] 
Har [discovering Swiff] Ha! 

what is that? Your lover! 
[grasping her by the throat and 
throwing her down] 
You miserable wretch [Swift com- 
mences shooting at Chase at the 
same time] 
Like the Chinese soldier, you think 

you can kill 
Your enemy with the report of your 

gun— 
[drawing and shooting] Now die! 

[Swift falls] 
Now wretched girl go to your home 
While I fly for life and freedom, exit- 
A slight thunder shower. 
Art. Oh I am shot! I'm dying! I'm 
dying! 
Dying for the love of you! 

Etta. For th' love of satan, you 
infernal brute! 
O were you to go through a thousand 

deaths, 
I'd pray that you may suffer a thous- 
and more! 
Art. [getting up-] Ha, your hopes 
are vain, for I am not hurt. 
You see, the ball which to my heart 

was aimed 
Hit on my memorandum book and 
glanced 



To the side, leaving me unhurt. Now 

listen, 
If with my love I can win yours, 'tis 

well; 
If not, well it is, for I will make you 
Obey me through fear; and if that 

won't work 
I will kill you for I can well lay it 
On Chase. Be not alarmed, but let 

me feed 
Upon your rosy lips until I'm filled 
With th' treasures of your beauty. 
Come! 
[within] O Miss Dayton 
Art. Damned! exU through one 
part of the camp- 

Etta. This way! enter Will Ames 
from the other- 

Will. Your brother's horse got 
frightened and threw him. 
Etta. My brother! Where? 
Will. Just about a half a mile of 
our place. 

Etta. Did he get hurt? 
Will. Yes ma'am, he got his leg 
broken. 
Etta. Where is he now? 
Wm„ At our house. 
Etta. Did he know I was here? 
Win. No, not exactly here, but he 
thought that you were some where 
about for he sent me to search for you 
and Mr. Swift. Did you see him? O 
here he conies. 
Art. [Re-en 'er Swift tipping 
his hat-] Good morning, 
Miss Dayton, I am glad to see you 

well. 
I have been hunting you for this half 

hour 
But I see that another was more 

fortunate 
Than I— 

Etta. O wonderful! 'tis wonderful, 
how devils change! 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



43 



Why I did not think that I was worth 

the search. 
Nevertheless I thank you very much — 
I am your prize Willie; you found me 

first. 
Will you lead the way or come with 

me 't where I 
Left my poor horse? 

Will. Yes ma'am, but won't you 

you ride? I brought two horses. 

ETTA. Willingly, willingly, lead on! 

Exeunt- 
Scene. VI. A room in Dayton's 
house- enter Arthur Swift and 
Robert Dayton. 

Rob. Where is my daughter, 

Arthur, where is she? 
Akt. She's riding with the Eatons 
who are coming 
Into town. 

Rob. Where was she? Tell me, 

where was she? 
Art. I care not to tell you. 
Rob. You care not to tell me! You 
must! you must! 
Tell me where did you find her, tell 
me, where? 
Art. Well, then, if you insist, I 
I will tell you. 
I found her in the arms of Harry 

Chase; 
Or rather, Harry Chase in her arms, 

for she 
Was pleading that he should not 

leave her thus; 
For he had promised to marry her 
And now when 'twas too late for her 

to repent 
He would leave her with shame and a 
broken heart. 
Rob. Then what said he? What did 

he do? Tell me. 
Art. Without a word he tore her 
hold, mounted 
His horse, and vanished in the woods. 



Rob. You are bold, Arthur, to tell 
me this news 
You should not have told me so. You 

lack morals. 
You are too blunt in your relations 

Arthur. 
You should not have told me that she 

is shamed 
By that most worthless fool who but 

last night 
Gambled away a fortune. Tell me 
'tis not so. 
Art. I told you th' truth in brief 
as you requested. 
Your sorrow is not greater than mine 

own 
For I, too, as you know, loved her 
dearly. 
Rob. Alas! I had forgot. Yes, we 
both are 
Unhappy men! unhappy men! O well — 
Let her come, she will not remain 
here long. 
Art. [aside] Good! as I thought 
it would be, so it is. 
He will drive her from home! We are 

safe! — 
Think not of driving your own child 
from home. 
Rob. I am still at the helm Arthur. 
Art. [aside] He is determined, 

good, good. 
Rob. What were you thinking of? 

tell me. 
Art. O thinking how unfortunate 
I am 
To have lost my love e'en before 'twas 

born 
And thinking how I still love, but love 

in vain! 
O 'tis sad, very sad indeed! 

Rob. You do lament in sorrow only, 
while 
I, both in sorrow and in shame! One 
shame, 



44 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



My friend, is heavier than a thousand 

sorrows! 
Does my son know of this? Does he? 
tell me; 
Art. No, he knows nothing- of it, 
but, Alas! 
Another incident to him happened: 
His horse took fright and threw him 

o'er a log; 
Upon which fall he broke his leg. 
And as he could not ride I took him 

into 
A farmer's house, set his leg, and left 

him there- 
Here comes your daughter! 
Rob. Yes once my daughter but no 
longer she — 
Now you go and leave us alone, exit 
Art. 

Enter Etta Dayton. 

Rob. You shameless wretch leave 

this house at once, go! [pushing 

her toward the door] Go! leave my 

house! 

Etta. Father let me explain — Oh 

no! no! 
Rob. Go I say. 

Etta. Yes, father, I will go, ail- 
though I am 
As far from being guilty of the shame 
Withwhich you 'cuse me of as when I 

was born. 
[turning toward the door] Lead, 

fortune lead, 
Lead on no matter what way now! 

Rob. Go! and return no more, go! 
[turns her out and locks the door] 
Oh the shame! Oh the shame! Exit 
sobbing. 

ACT III. 

Prbxude. Enter Preluder. 
Pre. 

Time glides o'er all that run, 



And never stops to look 



At its mirrors in the brook, 

Nor to the height of the sun. 
It travels night and dav, 

Up steep and over plain, 
And never slackens rein, 

Nor turns back on its way. 
It goes on with the hours, 
In sunshine and in rain, 
To ne'er return again, 

Back, to this world of ours. 
Like a spark in the air, 
It goes on, gliding on, 
To vast domains unknown, 

Where we know not where. 
And in time we shall go, 

With time behind and before, 
Like time, return no more 
To this world here below. — 
Yes time goes on very rapidly. And 
why? Because we seek the most 
pleasant things that can be found 
either to be heard, seen or read so that 
it may pass very smoothly and rapidly. 
Then, unconsciously, we go on turning 
pages in the book of life; but later on 
when we behold the huge volume 
which is turned to our left without 
being noticed, we mournfully exclaim: 
"O, how does time fly! How short 
life really is!" Thus we complain, 
when we ourselves seek the things to 
make one fleeting and the other brief, 
which is wrong. 

Now there is a means with which 
we may detain time and prolong life, 
and that is, to seek the things of the 
most tiresome character either to be 
heard, seen or read, which is very 
good indeed. Therefore knowing its 
goodness, our manager, for the good 
purpose of doing good, has obtained 
this play which should you be so 
patient as to witness to the end, will 
make minutes seem to you as long as 
hours, days, months; hours, as days, 
months and years: in fact, you will 
think that you have lived for ages 
and ages, and when you leave for 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



49 



take 
Me to his ranch, and then I told him 

not 
To be afraid, that I would not go back— 
First Offi. And then — 
Dav. Then I asked him to take the 
handkerchief 
Away that I would not try to go back. 
And he did. Then he showed me a 

big knife 
And said he was going to kill me with 
it— 

Enter a boy- 
Boy. Is Mr. Swift here? Mr. 

Garrett Swift? 
Gar. Yes, what do you want? 
Boy. Your partner Mr. Jones sends 
you this letter 
For you to read as soon as possible. 
Gar. How did you know I was here? 
Boy. I was told on the way. 
Gar. By whom? 
Boy. I don't know. He or she 

spoke in the dark, exit- 
Gar. Sheriff bring the light nearer. 
Reads- 

Our store was broken in to-night between 
nine and ten. A gray suit and a black hat was 
taken; and two thousand dollars from the safe, 
all in greenbacks. This is all I can miss at 
present. — W. Jones. 

O, what a bright night, yet with so 
dark deeds! 

Enter Will Ames. 
[aside to 1st officer-] Him with 
a new suit and a gray, Question 
him. 
First Offi. I will— Young Ames, 

where did you get that suit? 
Wii.iv. A lover who wished to see 
his sweetheart 
In poor clothes, give it me for mine. 
First Offi. I must search your 

pockets. 
Will. Search my pockets! 
First Offi. Yes. [to 2nd offi-] 



Watch old Ames. 
Now come [searches Wills pockets, 

finds a purse- [ 
Bring the light — Let's see — here I find 

two thousand 
In green-backs, Swift. What am I to 
do with him? 
Gar. Put him under arrest. [1 offi 

hand-cuff's Will.] 
John. My boy we 're cheaply sold 

by smiling villians. 
Will. What! you arrested too? 

For what, father? 
John. For killing Arthur Swift, 

and saving Dave's life. 
Will. You've done well. You 
saved an innocent life 
And rid the world of a black hearted 

devil - 
Yes, bite your lip now, Garrett Swift, 

fori 
Shall later on hear your teeth gnash. 

The web 
Which you have tangled us in, will in 

time, 
Give out, for truth's not dead, but 

slumbers now, 
Being worn in resisting such as you. 
But there will be a day in which it 

shall 
Again wake and rise like the glorious 

sun; 
Illuminate our darkest days; and curb 
Your gayest hours with due remorse 

and fear. — 
Be comfort'd mother. Come to town 

with us. 
There's sister and her husband who 
Will comfort you till our return. 
First Offi. [to 2nd offi-] Watch 
the body 'till I return. 

Exeunt- 
SCENE III. James Gosson and 
Harry Chase's lodgings- 
James Gosson at the phone- Enter 



50 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



Harry Chase dressed in ivomen's 
clothes- A sun-bonnet on his 
head- 
James, [dropping the phone] 

Ha, ha, ha, ha! 
Har. Don't laugh. 
James. Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! 
Har. For God's sake listen. 
James. Pardon me. Through your 

paleness I can see 
That something- serious is happened. 

Speak. 
Har. On my way to my uncle's 

tent, I caught 
Up with two officers speeding along 
With Garrett Swift. Keeping out of 

their sight, 
Yet within hearing their hasty dis- 
course, 
I learnt that Swift sometime 'tween 

nine and ten 
This night, had from his home miss'd 

Eaton's boy; 
That he himself had sent his two 

brothers, 
One up the river and the other down, 
In searching of the child, while he had 

gone 
For the police's aid. -As we came with- 
in 
Four hundred paces of the tent, a shot 
Was fired in that same direction. 

They ran. 
I took the same speed keeping the 

same space 
Between us, and when we came near 

the tent 
There stood my uncle still with the 

revolver 
Clasped in his hand; beside him 

Arthur Swift 
Lay dead; the boy was asked how he 

came there; 
And to this he replied that my uncle 
Had carried him blindfolded to the 



place, 
And when there he had taken off the 

blind. 
Showed him a big knife saying that 

he would 
Kill him with it. As soon this answer- 
ed, straight 
From town came a boy with a message 

and gave 
It to Swift who read it aloud; saying 
That his store had been broken in and 

one 
Dark gray suit, one black hat, and 

two thousand 
Were miss'd. No sooner was this 

news read 
Than from the way of town, my cousin 

Willie 
Came in dressed in a dark gray, wear- 
ing a black hat. 
He was searched and in his inner 

pocket 
They found — 

James. Two thousand dollars? 

Har. Yes. 

James. Did he say how he got the 

suit? 
Har. Yes, from a lover who wished 
to see 
His sweetheart in humble clothes. 
James. I wonder how far will this 

devil go. 
Har. He has already gone too far. 
James. Were they arrested? 
Har. Both were taken — 
James. Bad, bad, bad! 
Har. Back from the frozen regions 
of Alaska 
I brought one million and a half in 

gold, 
And will spend it all to investigate 
This matter ere I give it up; because 
I know, I know, that both father and 

son 
Are innocent! 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



51 



James. By that you may know how 

much a small piece 
Of knowledge is worth, when you 

weigh it with gold! 
How light in weight this heavy metal 

is! 
How worthless then! 

Har. Alas! I know it well! For 

valuing 
It much and fearing its loss, I lost that 

which 
No gold can buy. Ah, had I then more 

knowledge 
And less gold, I would not have 

listened to 
A wretched girl whom I still love! — 
These gray hairs, my dear friend, at 

twenty six, 
Were not made gray with age, but 

with cares; 
But what of that? Let my cares be 

lost in 
The past. And let us to the passing 

present 
Turn our best thoughts and plan 

what's to be done 
In the near future. My uncle and 

cousin 



Not shut its doors against us mortals, I 
Will not rest nor spare my purse 'till I 

have 
Led you back to your happy home; 

fori 
Believe in your pure innocence, with 

as great 
A hope, as I believe in God! 

Jamei,. [returning] How strange! 
To day is Friday an unlucky day, 

some say. 
Har. Had it been an unlucky day, 

God 
Would have cut it out of the week. 

No, all 
Days, though unlike in form and 

sizes, are 
The same in luck and goodness. It 

is us, 
With evil deeds, who make, them seem 

unlucky. 
James. Now you spoke with the 

heart of a man and with 
The tongue of truth. 

Har. O, let us both do so, and 

presently, 
Amongst ourselves take some device, 

and see 



Are both in prison at this hour. Let us i What's to be done 



Think, of the nearest way by which 

we may 
Find out their innocence — 
James. The phone is talking, I will 

listen 
[James goes to the phone- Har. 
■paces the floor unconscious of 
his apparel- 

Har. Poor innocent boy truest 

friend of mine, 
If wealth and labor can free you from 

your 
Dark prison cell, if truth still lingers 

here 
In this most wicked world, if heaven 

has 



James. I just learned that a certain 
convict named 
Bruenoescaped from th' penitentiary — 
Har. And here [talcing off wo- 
men's clothes] have I his 
uniform? 
James. And how is that? 
Har. Just as I was leaving the 
fatal camp 
He came upon me with a club. Holding 
It over my head, he demanded my 

clothes, 
I gave them him and took his in 

return; 
Then to my uncle's tent did I go hop- 
ing 



52 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



To find there something with which to 

hi&e these 
Most ugly stripes. These were the 
nearest finding's. 
James. What direction did he take? 
Har. Downward along the river. 
James. I'll bet he is at Swift's 

house at this hour. 
Har. Is he kin to Swift? 
James. Somewhat in deed, but not 

in breed. 
Har. I understand. Do you know 

him? 
James. Well. 

Har. What was his offence? 
James. Robbery. 

Har. Oh! I remember now, it was 
about 
Six years ago. And he was sent 

under 
A term of ten years. But it seems to 

me 
There was another who partook of the 
crime 
James. There was another seen, 
but never caught 
And this another one was Garret 

Swift. 
I say it, not through knowledge but 
suspicion — 

Now wait awhile. — exit- 
Re-enter with a long light over- 
coat and two false beards- 
Yon put this on— [gives overcoat] 

That hides your stripes. 
Now this [gives false beard] Let us 

see its effects. — 
Good! Very good! Had you much 

money in 
The clothes you lost? 

Har. But twenty dollars or such a 

matter. 
James. Have you here any? 
Har. The clerk has twenty thous- 
and in the safe. 



James. Pull your beard off, put it 

in your pocket 
And this one too, go down and get the 

money. 
Then make haste to Swift's house; 

should you find there 
The convict still alone (so shall he be 
For I think Swift's till out) buy out 

his secret 
In the best way you can. When you 

have it, 
You shall know whether 'twill bs 

better for you 
To be him; if so, pay him to leave the 

state 
At once; then wait for Swift and be 

the convict. 
Har. Then what am I to do or say? 
James. I can't tell. You must 

work according to 
What you learn. 

Har. Then, you must go yourself 

for you are better 
Fit for the purpose than I. 
James. Not so, should it be neces- 
sary for 
Me to remain there several days(which 
Will be if my suspecions we find true) — 
Har. Why? 
James. I would be recognized, and 

recognization 
Would upset our plans. Now listen 

to me: 
This same Brueno, as you say, was 

sent under 
A term of ten years for stealing the 

sum 
Of twenty thousand dollars, which 

were never 
Recovered. When he was asked of 

his partner 
And of the money, he affirmed that he 
Had not a partner, and the money, he 
Had lost, when trying to escape. 

Har. Then you suspect Swift the 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



53 



unknown robber, 
Who perhaps has the money with him 
still? 
James. The same; besides he was 

his lawyer. 
Har. Well then if I must go, I will. 
JamES. 'Ill walk with you part of 
the way. 

Exeunt- 
Scene IV. A room in Swift's 
house- Enter Brueno- 

Bku. Tired of waiting for a stir, 
came I in, 
And here find I myself with no one 

else 
In sight but me. What, all asleep 

with doors 
Ajar and lights in their full height 

burning? 
Ha! [Enter Harry Chase unseen by 

Brueno.] 
Like crickets which in pleasant 

summer evenings 
Chirp over harvest fields by other's 

sown 
So do these villains here amid plenty 
With their deep snorting — a pack of 

cuckoos' 
In other birds' nests! What a fool 

was I 
For being silent rather than give out 
The truth! O, well, a fool is but a tool. 
Har. [aside] Good! Now I know 
enough to know where to 
Seek for the rest— Just came in, did 
you Brueno? 
Bru. [aside] Just came out— Yes, 
who are you 
That knows me so ill well? 

Har. I'm Garrett Swift's younger 
brother 
Whom you never met. 

Bru. You were begot in times of 
care and plenty 
For you're much larger than the other 



two 
And grayer though younger than they. 
Har. Not so, six years have lapsed 
since you met them. 
They are gray now. 

Bru. Yes that's so, six times six it 
seems when one 
Has to feed on stale bread and sour 

beans — 
But you seem not to wonder at my 
sight. 
Har. No, I heard of your flight er'e 
now. Sure you 
Have not come to disturb our peace, 
have you? 
Bru. Not if I get whats' due to me. 
Har. How much is that? 
Bru. I have no business with you. 
Garrett 
Is the man who can settle the matter. 
Har. He's off on business; and '11 
not be back 
Before a week or so. It would not be 
Wise for you to remain here till he's 
come. 
Bru. Ah, he is off again! He's wise! 
He's wise! 
Yes wise, and had I been so wise as he 
He would have been I and I he. 
Har. I don't see how? 
Bru. No; well, when he gave me 
the combination 
Of the safe, had 1 said: "Now you go in 
And open it, and I'll stay by the 

window 
To get the money," he would have 

been caught 
And I with all the gold would have 

been free. 
That's how he would have been I and 
I he. 
Har. Was not the unerstanding 
'tween you two 
That you should have half the money? 
Bru. Yes, but I should have more. 



54 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



Har. Well, here is fifteen thousand. 

Is it fair? 
Bru. Yes. 

Har. Take it on one condition. 
Bru. What is it? 
Har. To leave the state at once. 
Bru. Impossible! I might be caught. 
Har. There is no danger for I 
have a friend 
Without who will help you to steal 
away. 
Bru. Away back to the prison you 

mean. 
Har. If those were my intentions 
there'd be no 
Need of my offering you money at all. 
Bru. Well, I'll try it. 
Har. H-re [gives money] and 
here [gives false beard-] put 
this on. 
Bru. [pocketing the money and 
putting on the beard before the 
mirror. ] 

Why, the devil himself wouldn't know 
me now. 
Har. Go through the back door, 
haste! 

Exit Brueno. 
The villian is the very likeness of me 
Both in height and in looks — -I think I 

can 
Work it well with Swift. So here will 

I wait 
Until he come, be the hour early or 
late. 

Enter Garrett Swift. 
Gar. May I ask you your name? 
Har. You may. 
Gar. Who are you? What brought 

you here? 
Har. I'm an old friend of yours. 
The reason that 
Brought me here is the same which 

took me hence 
Some six years past, Gold is the 



cause of it all 
Gar. Speak to the point. 
Har. Here it [taking off over- 
Coat] bespeaks itself. 
Gar. Brueno! 
Har. Yes sir, 'tis I. 
Gar. You must leave this house at 
once for if they 
Find you her, something might be o' 

me suspected. 
And in my present circumstances, 

suspicion, 
Would drag me down. 

Har. Then I will go to the police's 
station 
There give myself up and tell what 
you are. 
Gar. Who will believe you? 
Har. That's so, they'll not believe 
me; but 
believe 
You this: if you move but the breadth 

of a hair 
T'wards having me arrested again, I 

will 
Kill you, because you can well keep 

me here 
Without the knowledge of the officers. 
And furthermore, if vou can't do as 

much 
For me now as I did for you in the 

past, 
Why then, 'tis good that you should 
die. 
Gar. I will do all I can. Come and 
change your clothes. 

Exeunt- 

ACT IV. 

Scene I. James Gosson a7i(? Harry 
Chase's rooms- Enter James Gosson 
and Brueno who is handcuffed- 
James. Come, come, Brueno come, 
I won't take you back, 
But will advise you t' give yourself 
up— 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



55 



Bku. To give myself up! 

James. Yes, , twill be better. In 

four days I shall 
Have two and thirty thousand dollars 

for you 
To pay what you stole, interest and all. 
Pay it, and give yourself up. Do this 

and you 
Shall be regarded well by all who hear 

it. 
And in a few months pardoned — then 

come 
To me, and I will, in fair terms, let 

you have 
A reasonable amount for you to go 
In business if you wish. Come, be a 

man 
And promise me you will do this — 

your hand. 
Bru. I did once see the day in 

which I could 
Be proud to give you this hand with 

my word 
Of honor, but that was at that age 

when 
Ambition goes foremost of reason; 

when 
Youth's wild, whose future all depends 

'pon its 
Associations. Ah, had I then met 
A man, I might to-day be one! 

James. Enough, let me take those 

chains from your wrist! 
Now go into your room and rest, be 

gone! 
For here's a friend whom 1 would see 

alone. 
.E^ Brueno. Enter Harry Chase. 
That beard becomes you well. Has 

Swift discovered 
You yet, or does he still think you're 

Brueno. 
Har. He does still think I am 

Brueno the great 
And has gone so far as to offer me 



Four an^i ten thousand dollar if I'd 

leave 
Within a few day. 
James. What was your answer? 
Har. Yes. Answered I aright? 
James. We shall see later on. — 
You have been there a week with 

them. Now you 
Should, by this time, know something 
new. 
Har. I know much through sus- 
picion but none to prove. 
James. Nor I on the out side can 
anything find — 
There are but a few days before the 

trial 
Yet, something must be done. 

Har. No, nothing more can be 
done! no hope 
For which to wait! All labor's lost, 

my friend. 
Naught, naught remains where on to 

toil! Not even 
A dream is left to us! Oh 'tis sad! sad. 
James. Many a time did you stand 
( gainst the power 
Of God, before snow, wind, rain, cold, 

and heat; 
Yet all the while held a hope in view. 
And now can you not brave a little 

man? 
Come, come, all earthly things must 

have their prime 
Be resolute. He will give out in time. 
Har. Show me a hope and I'll hold 

fast to it. 
James. We must make him confess. 
Har. But how? 

James. First, we must show him 
an apparition 
And to do this 'tis not an easy task 
For in these latter years there are but 

few 
Who still believa in ghosts; therefore 
we must 



56 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



Use our utmost skill and have some- 
one buried 
Alive, whose funeral he will attend; 
For instance, Mable Eaton or Andrew 

Dayton, 
Or both if best, then show them him 

as ghosts 
And afterwards have someone in 

disguise 
For 's brother's spirit which he will 

undoubtedly 
Believe to be real after seeing those 
Of whom he had seen buried. Come I 

will 
Tell you more of it on our way to 
Swift's 
Har. Are you coming there too? 
James. No, but I'll go with you 
part of the way. 
Come, come, we may be late, lets not 
delay! 

Exeunt James and Harry. 
Enter Brueno. 
Bku. Now is my chance to get a 
double pay. 
Then, why not? Why not? — I will do it! 
Swift often did save me from suffer- 
ing 
Starvation, then, why not save him 

now from 
His enemies. I'll do it by jabers! 
Exit through the street door. 
Scene, II. A room in Sivifts 
house. Enter Mable Eaton. 

Mab. Why should I live when my 
testimony 
Will give a stronger evidence for 

their 
Conviction! No, I'll rather die than be 
But the least cause of their imprison- 
ment. 

Enter Albert Swift. 
Al. Sweet girl, you are too beauti- 
ful to be 
Thus weeping your young life away — 



Mab. I, beautiful dear sir? so is the 
rose 
Yet, it will prick your finger while 
pleasing your nose. 
Exit Mable. enier Bess. 
BESS. You need not try to make 
love to her. She 
Is not so foolish as I. If you wish 

[Enter Garrett Swift.] 
To rid yourself of her, do so, and be 
done. 
Gar. Can we, and be safe? 
BESS. No better opportunity had 
you 
Than now. Use poison. Throw her 

o'er the bridge, 
Then send out a warn for her search; 

and when 
She is found all the world will say she 

has 
Committed suicide. As for Andrew 
Dayton, he's coming here to night. 

Tell him 
His wife is false, nay prove it so to 

him. 
After he leaves here send Al. directly 
On his wheel by the shortest way to 

his house, 
And when he is arrived, let Al come 

out 
From 'neath his door saying. "Good- 
night dearest 
Here someone's coming" — And An- 
drew Dayton, 
Proud as he is, will either kill himself 
Or his wife or perhaps both. 

Gar. We'll take your plane with- 
out delay. Here he comes. 
Enter Andrew Dayton. 
And. I have come to-night to ask 
one more favor 
Of you which I hope you will grant — I 

wish 
To see you alone. 
Gar. [to Bess and Al] Leave us 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



57 



[aside to Al] to your post. 

exit Al ivith Bess. 

My dear young- friend, you are a 

victim to 
Misfortune, and before you ask your 

favor 
(For I can partly guess what your 

suit is) 
I must unfold my heart to you. I have 
Long been your father's friend and 

yours; 
And still am I; and so's your father 

still 
A friend to me; and so were you until 
That fatal night, which neither you nor 

I 
Shall e'er forget, but since then, you 

have looked 
Upon me with much grudge as though 

I were 
The cause of your unhappy lot, but no, 
I am not — That family, from the old- 
est to 
The youngest are wicked, most wicked! 
And. No, Garrett Swift, not all, 
my wife is still 
Unstained. 
Gar. Iwish she was, Andrew, but 

no, she's false. 
And. You lie! 

Gar. I hope there '11 be no truth in 
what I said. 
But I have often, while you are absent- 
Seen from my office a man visiting 
Your wife. He may be honest in his 

terms, 
Yet, were he so, it seems to me he 

would 
Not take advantage of the darkness. 
However, take no resolution 'pon this, 
But wait and find it out yourself. 

Perhaps 
If you return to-night before expected 
You may be able to see whether I 
Speak truth or lie. 



And. If you have spoken the truth 
she shall die! 
If not, she shall live, and I will kill 

you! 
So I'm disgraced whether you spoke 

false or true! 
Then, with me satan, I'm resolved to 

kill, 
And earthly powers cannot stay my 
will! exit. 
Gar. I wonder if Al went? I'll see. 
Enter Mable Eaton from upstairs- 
Mab. What have I here to live for? 
nothing, then, 
Since there is nothing here to live for, 

all 
There is, is after death. [Kneels in 
silent prayer— gets up pours 
poison in a glass-] 
Here will I leave these letters with the 

note. 
[raises the glass slowly to her lips] 
enter Harry Chase. 
Har. Mable! [snatches the glass 

from her hand-] 
Mab. You impudent fool! let me 

drink water. 
Har. Don't you know me Mable? 
Mab. I have had the misfortune of 
meeting 
You once or twice. 
Har. [taking off false beard] 

Do you know me now? 
Mab. My God! Harry Chase! 
Har. No, no time for greeting — 
James Gosson and I have, or rather, 
James has formed a plot against 
Swift's which we think will work, and 
to do it you and Andrew Dayton must 
be buried alive. 
Mab. And smother to death? 
Har. Ha! ha! I thought I just 
caught you in the act of committing 
suicide. 
Mab. Yes, but you brought me a 



58 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



hope, and I wish to live now, yet, if it 
is to release your uncle and cousin I 
would undergo a thousand deaths. 

Har. But we don't want you to die. 
Dead, ,ve could not make use of you, 
and we need your help. We shall 
have your coffins tubed so that you 
may easily breathe. Now the question 
is: Can you brave it? 

Mab. Yes, yes. 

Har. That's a brave girl, [kisses 
■her on the forehead-] Now take 
"■this flask; go to the top of the stairs, 
and drink its contents — No, leave the 
letters and note here — After drinking, 
recline on the floor for you shall 
presently fall asleep. Listen, should 
you wake befor I can come to you keep 
your eyes shut and sleep still. 

Mab. I shall do my best. {exit 
upstairs] 

Har. I forgot I was sick. I must 
go to bed. Exit to another part of 
the house- Takes poison with hint- 
Re-enter Gar. Swift and Bess. 

Bess, [seeing the note} Look 
here — 

Reads: — I have killed myself, let no one 
answer for the deed— Mable Eaton. 

Much labor saved isn't it? 

Gar. Go up to her room and see if 

she is there. 
Bess. I will— exit upstairs— Re- 
enters above- 
Here she lies dead, dead. 

Gar. Let her be. When she's past 
recovering 
We'll summon our doctor, and do all 

we can 
To save her life. Now go to your 
room, exit Bess above. 
Enter Brueno. 
Gar. What does this mean! 
Bru. When two men look alike, 
though much different 



We think one's th' other when the 

other's long absent 
But when both are seen within a short 

while, 
That difference no-longer can beguile — 
Mark, I'm the real Brueno. The other 

one, 
Here with you, is Breuno by name 

alone. 
And since the name has naught to do 

with the man 
He took my name to better his good 

plan. 
Gar. Who is he? 
Bru. His name is Harry Chase who 

acts as agent 

For a detective whose name you know 

well. 
Gar. Who? 
Bru. James Gosson. 
Gar. James Gosson! 

Bru. The same. 

Bru. How did they get your 

clothes? 

Bru. I would like to tell you in 
rhyme, for the tale, really, needs both 
rhyme and note, but being a rather 
short winded poet, I will, in plain 
brief prose, tell you how they got it: 
well, they got it, that is all, and kept 
me prisoner until to-day when I won 
their confidence and with it my free- 
dom. Now here is the point: — they 
have used their utmost skill to get 
into your private affairs, but being 
not able to find a key to fit your lock, 
have given it up and now seek to find 
a way of making you confess. To do 
this, they are going to bury alive 
Mable Eaton and Andrew Dayton; 
show them to you you as ghosts; and 
afterwards have someone in disguise 
for your brother's spirit so that you 
may believe the latter by seeing the 
two former ones; be harrowed with 
fear; and unfold your undiscovered 
deeds. Let them go on with their 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



59 



cunning- work; contrive not against it; 
nor let them know you suspect ought; 
be silent, and all will be well. 

Gak. You are a friend indeed. 
Thanks for this. 

Bku. By the way— I learned that 
you offered fourteen thousand to Chase. 
Is the same due to me, or not? 
Bku. Yes, twenty. 
Bru. I will get it to-morrow night, 
for I have already stayed too long — 
Mable Eaton lives here, does she not? 
Gar. Yes and already acting her 
part — read this [gives the note] 

Bru. [after reading the note] 
Where is she. 

Gar. Upstairs. I just discovered 
her as you came. 

Bru. Call you doctor, he already 
knows the business and will pronounce 
her dead. However say nothing to 
him nor to anyone else. 

Gar. Fear not. Come to-morrow 
we will speak more of this. 

Exeunt- 
Scene III. A room in Andrew 
Dayton's house- Enter Andrew 
Dayton. 

And. May, May! 

May. [within] Yes, I am coining. 

Enter May. 
And. Madam who is that man just 

leaving the house? 
Mav. I saw no man leaving- the 

house. 
And. [drawing a revolver] for 
the last time. Who is he? 
Enter James Gosson. 
James. I am that man! 
And. Gosson; James Gosson! 
James. Yes it is I. Pocket that 
gun — your hand. 
"Tis long since we two met, 
And. James, I wish you were he I 
saw but you're not 



James. The man you saw worths 

not a thought in the way 

Of jealousy. His name is Albert Swift. 

Who was sent here by Garret his 

brother. 

And. Ha!— Wait a moment, I am 

going out 
James. O, no you will not, they 
must live in order 
To save your father-in-law from the 
gallows. 
And. I am going out here to see a 

friend. 
James. Ivet him go. I'm a friend 
truer than he. 
Come, come, compose yourself, and 
listen to me. 
And. Speak, then, and drown this 
anger which now sails 
Upon the uppermost part of my reason 
Leaving all patience far behind. 

O, speak! 
And change my bloody thoughts. 
James. I have been looking here 
for these two weeks 
Trying to find a clew of Swift's stern 

deeds 
And many have I found, yet none to 

prove; 
Therefore all hope remaining to us 

now 
Is a self confession, and to have it 

made: 
You and Miss Mable Eaton must be 

buried 
Alive, then shown to him as ghosts; 

close following 
Someone in the likeness of his dead 
brother — 
And. I understand. Let us to it at 
once 
And should we fail, I have my mind 

made up 
To what shall follow next. — What am 
I to do? 



60 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



James. Drink this[gives him a 
small flask] Andrew drinks 
— falls- 
Mav. Traitor! You have killed my 

husband! 
James. No I have not. 
May. Ha, bury him alive! How 
would he breathe 
Beneath the earth. 
James. Through a tube. 
May. O pardon me. 

I, having- lost all faith, cannot believe! 
James. Now call the neighbors 
'tention to the scene, 
Then send someone for doctor Willson 

whom 
I've made acquainted with the matter. 
And once more have faith in a friend. 
Good-bye. God be with you. exeunt- 
ACT V. 
Scene. I. A room in Swift's 
house- Enter Harry Chase and 
Bess Steavens. 
Hak. Love me, when you know 

me but two days? 
BESS. Love's ever an intruder; it 
waits not 
To be invited, nor tor lapse of time; 
'Twill come into your house though 

your door be shut; 
By night, or day, in fair or foul 

weather; 
Early or late: 'twill not come when 

you ask. 
Nor will it leave when you bid him go. 
Then, 'tis not my fault for loving you 
so. 
Har. But it is wrong — 

'Tis but a week since you were married. 
BESS. It matters not. 
Har. Tell me this: Did you marry 
your husband 
For what you thought he was; for 

what you know 
He was; or for what you thought he 



would be? 
Bess. For what I thought he was. 
Har. Then, 'tis your fault. You 
shouldn't have married him 
Unless you knew what he was. 

BESS. Perhaps I shouldn't — but — 
Har. Think not me selfish, but be- 
fore I'll run 
Away with you, I must know all the 

reasons 
That've driven you to leave your 
husband. 
BESS. He won me from the youth 
that loved me true 
And later on, had me to play false love 
To that self same youth for the pur- 
pose of 
Stealing his money; and I so foolish, 
The enterprise upon me took; but 

happily, 
We were over heard by a girl who 

took 
Upon herself to save him, but while 
Belating her true tale, unseen ears 
took — 
Har. My God! My God! True! True! 
BESS. Who, true? 
Har. You! you! [embracing her] 
I shall free you from your husband to- 
night — 
Here he comes! exit- Re-enter Al. 
Swift. 
Al. Why do you look so sad, dear? 
Bess. Sad? not I. 

I am the happiest woman living. 
Ax,. And I, the happiest man. 
Come to dinner. Exit with Bess. 
Enter Garret Swift. 
Gar. Going to show me ghosts, are 

they? ha! ha! Enter Brueno. 
Bru. Were you to th' funeral this 

afternoon? 
Gar. Was I? I should smile. Have 

you seen the ghosts yet? 
Bru. Yes, they are all dressed and 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



61 



on their way here — 
Spoke you of th' business to any one? 
Gar. Have breathed not a word to 

any living- soul. 
Bru. Pretend t' be horrified by 
their appearance. 
Be careful, lest you should say too 

little, 
Or too much, and above all, let them 

not 
Perceive your knowledge of their 
coming hither. 
Gar. Be not afraid I shall play my 
part well.— 
Do you want your money now? 

Bru. Yes I'll have a good oppor- 
tunity 
To leave the state while they perform. 
Gar. Here's twenty thousand 
[gives money to Bru] 
Yet I think you had better stay, for 
here [pointing to the wall-] 
I have a secrete door where I can 
keep you safe. 
Bru. I'll stay. 

Gar . Come [opens a door of same 

height of the wall- Bru. 

goes in, Gar. shuts and 

locks it- 

Now I will leave the room and give 

them chance 
To post themseves. Exit. Enter 
James Gosson. 
James. No body in sight? Very 
well — [beckons] 
Enter three officers. 
Come, here's a secrete door where two 

of you 
May wait and listen [opens the door 

discovers Brueno.] 
Ha! Traitor! 

Bru. [stopping between the 
street door and James and the 
three officers, with two revolvers 
covering the nearest two-] 



I may be killed but two of you shall 

go 
With me for I will not be taken alive. 
[At the same time stepping 
bac kwards toward the street door- 
Enter Harry Chase who comes on 
tip-toe toward Brueno's back- 
snatches the two revolvers from 
Brueno's hand and clinches him. 
All come fo Harry's aid, hand- 
cuff Bru., stuff his mouth and 
take him back to the secrete closet 
where two of the officers remain 
with him- 
James, [to 3d offi- and shutting 
the door at tJve same time. 
You go behind that piano 

Exit offi- 
[to Har] I think we are betrayed but 

nevertheless 
Go on with our plan. Exit behind 
the piano- 
Re-enter Gar Swift. 
Gar. Why, I thought you were sick 

a bed. 
Har. So was I— 

Tell me. Do you believe in ghosts? 
Gar. The idea. What makes you 

ask? 
Har. I tell you, Garrett, I have 
just now seen 
Andrew Dayton and Mable Eaton's 
ghosts. 
Gar. No, my boy, the dead 

return no more. 
Har. I always thought the same 

until tonight. 
Gar. Perhaps you were asleep and 
awakened 
By some unusual noise, and when one 
Is so arous'd, the mind does often 

show 
The eye shapes which are not real — 
God! 
Andrew and Mable pass across the 



62 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



back part of the room- Re-enter 
Al. There! Mable and Andrew's 
ghost! 
See! see! And there! Look! O, look! 
My brother's spirit approaching us. 
Enter someone as a ghost- 
Gar. [aside to Al.] Fool! it is 

someone in disguise. 
Har. [coming nearer to Gar.] 
Speak to him Al. it seems as 
though he has 
Something of importance to say 

Gar- starts to get up. Har puts 
a handerchief with chloroform 
over his mouth andnose- Gar. 
falls back on the chair- 

Har. Speak to him [ghost ap- 
proaches slowly] 
Al. O, come not near us, but say 
whether 
It is within our power to give you 

relief or no. 
In the name of heaven speak and say 

what you 
Would have us do. 
Ghost. Give out the truth and save 
John Ames from 
The gallows and his son from prison. 

Do't. 
Restore the happiness we took from 

their home. 
Fear not the punishment of earthly 

laws 
For they can't be compared with those 

which are 
To follow after death, exit- 

Al. You,' Garrett, are to blame for 
this. You led — 
Why, what's the matter? 

Har. He fainted that was all. Tell 
me do you 
Intend to confess the truth? 

Al. I don't know, will ask brother's 
opinion. 

James, [from behind the piano 



to 3d offi.] 
Third Off. Enough for their 
conviction if no more 
Will be said. Listen! Re-enter ghost- 
Ghost. Ask your own concience's 
opinion 
And let our brother ask his. — 
Al. I will. Exit Ghost- 
Gar. [sitting up. ] 
Al. 'Wake, brother, and begin to 
reap your labors' 
Due products — they are ripe. Come 

let us give 
Ourselves up. You know they are 
innocent. 
Gar. [starting up] Fool! 
Har. [getting hold of Gar's 
arm] No Garrett Swift you 
shall go no further. 
Third Off. [advancing:— to AL] 
You say John Ames and son are 
innocent? 
Al. Yes, I myself exchanged clothes 

with Willie Ames 
And Arthur, my brother, took young 

David, 
To John Ames's camp, to lay the 

crime on him. — 
My brother was justly killed. 
Third Off. Are you willingly to 

be arrested? 
Al. Yes,— [offi- handcuffs Al-] 
Gar. [trying to loosen Harry's 

hold] Let me go! 
James opens the secrete door, 
officers come forth with Brueno. 
James, [advancing] What, let 
you go! Yes, you infernal brute 
By strange unnatural nature bred 
We'll let you go to a dark prison cell 
Where you should have been since 
your birth's date. 
First Off. [handcuffing Gar] 

Come, come. 
Second Off. Here I find thirty-five 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



63 



thousand dollars 
Taken of Brueno's pocket, 

First Off. Give it to James — 
Exeunt all but Harry Chase. 

EnterBess. 
Bess. Have you arrested them, love. 
Har. O, no, you don't love me. 

[pulling off his beard] 
Bess. Harry Chase! Traitor! exit- 
Har- Yes, I have been a traitor, 
even so 
On seeking out the truth for I did it 
Under a false pretence. 

Enter Helen and David. 
May I lead you from your unhappy 
home. 
Helen. Yes, anywhere. Exeunt. 
Scene II. A prison cell- John 
Ames sitting in a chair- Will 
standing before him- 

Will. Father, lament not, for this 
life is like 
A cloud which rises to a certain height 
And falls again to be consumed 
Into the ground: the higher it rises 
The greater is its fall. We're born to 

die 
And die to live. Then what! though 

we be here 
Imprisoned when our conscience is 

free. 
'Tis better to be innocent here, than 
Be guiity and enjoy all the freedom 

that 
The world can give. Remorse is dark- 
er than 
This prison cell. Hark! I hear foot- 
steps — 
John. Perhaps a mob to hang us 

both. 
Will. L,et them come, father, they 
shall see how we 
Can bear the strokes of fate. 
John. What, fate! there is no such 
a thing as fate: 



'Tis our ignorance which misleads 

us, my boy, 
And makes us think 'tis fate. 
Will. Alas! 'Tis so! 
Enter James, Garrett, Albert, 
Brueno and officers, behind- 

James. Peace be in here [to Will] 
My boy I came to lead 
You home and leave here, in your 

place, the true 
Criminal. Get ready, let us toward 
home. 
Will. Get ready! We were ready 
to go long 
Long before you came. 
James, [to officers] The prisoners 

must not be left together here. 
First Off. Why, there's no room. 

All the other cells are full. 
James. Take those two to some 
other place and leave 
Garrett here all alone. 

Second Off. Why there is one cell 
on the farther corner 
O' the building with but five tramps, 

we may put them there. 
Exeunt officers with Brueno and 
Albert. 
Will. Now, Garrett, measure the 
height of your glory. 
And the depth of our fall and see 

which is 
The greater; weigh them and see 

which is the heavier 
While you sit in the chair which you 

prepared 
For us. Sit at ease, and when your 

conscience 
Comes to knock at your cell's door, say: 

"Alas! 
Alas! I am at home." Exeunt- 

Scene III. A room in Rob. Day- 
ton's house- 
Rob. [pacing the floor-] Ah had 
I been [to a doctor] like they 



64 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



who sleep each day 
To shorten the length of the fleeting 

hours! 
How much, say, how much happier 
would I be! 
Dr. Unhappy is the man to whom 
the hours 
Seem long. For such a man is either 

sick 
In body, idle in mind, or stricken 
By the stern hand of sorrow. But — 
Enter a servant boy afrightened. 
Rob. What brought you here — 
Speak! What ails you? Speak! — 
Dr. You frighten the boy worse 
than he is — 
Come here, my boy — now tell me 
where have you been? 
Boy. Out in the garden, sir. 
Dr. With whom? 
Boy. With whom? you ask. 
Dr. Yes. 

Bov. With the cook sir. 
Dr. What were you doing with 

cook? 
Boy. Taking a moonlight stroll. 
Dr. And then? 

Boy. And then we saw Andrew 

Dayton's ghost, sir. 
Rob. What, what! You impudent 

liar you! 
Dr. The boy speaks truth — here 
[Giver a letter to Rob., who reads 
to himself. ] 

Now, tell me, where were you when 
you saw him? 
Boy. Beneath the cherry-tree. 
Dr. A moonlight stroll beneath 
the cherry-tree. 
And with the cook you say? Where 
is she now? 
Boy. O, sir, she fainted when she 
saw the ghost: 
Just as he said he'd frightened two 
women 



To death, and driven five men out o* 

their heads 
Just then she fainted — 

Rob. My son not, dead; my daught- 
er innocent; 
Swifts, guilty of the crimes which 

Ames's 
Were 'cused; and I, a villian for be- 
lieving 
Them honorable men. 

Dr. That is not all, Swift also 
helped Brueno 
To open your safe six years since— 

here is 
The money which young Gosson got 
from Swift, [gives money] 
Rob. Ah the good boy! Why didn't 

he come? 
Dr. He took Swift to jail but will 
soon be here, 
Providing that you will receive your 

son 
And his wife, also her folk, for the 
night. 
Rob. Yes, yes. Where are they? 
Call them in, call them in. 
[the doctor goes to the window* 
beaconS' Enter Andrew, May, Em- 
ma, Mable, Helen and David.] 
Boy. There now, look for your- 
selves. Gee! exit- 
Rob. My boy [they embrace'] 
My boy forgive me, my dear boy 
Forgive me, forgive me. 
And. I've nothing to forgive 
father — 
Enter James, John and Will. 
Will, [embracing Emma] we are 

free again. 
Em. God be praised, my boy. 
John Thank God [embracing 
Emma] we are once more at liberty. 
Will, [to Mable] I am free, free to 
be imprisoned 
Again in your heart's dungeon. 



PLOT AGAINST PLOT. 



65 



HEL. O, wonderful day, full of 

sorrow and joy! — 
[to James] May we still meet as 

friends? 
James. Yes, still so. 
Will. [to Mab.] The truest love 

is based upon friendship— 
They are still friends. And so were 

we but now 
No longer friends. 
Mab. No longer friends! Why? 
Will. Because we shall soon be 

bridegroom and bride 
To grief and joy, toil, and rest side by 

side. 
James, [to Rob.] Sir, are you 

ready to receive your daughter? 
Har. [aside] His d a u g hter! 

Thanks, then she is still alive. 
Rob. My daughter, you say, yes, 

yes, my dear boy; 



Bring me my child, bring me my child. 

Exit James — Re-enter with Etta. 

May I ask you forgiveness, my child? 

Etta. Sire, let my answer be asking 

your blessings [they embrace] 

God bless you my child! God bless you! 

Har. There are a thousand things 

I wish to say 

But have no tongue to speak them out. 

Rob. Your hand, and I shall, o' 

those thing in brief speak. 
[takes Etta's hand, puts it in 
Harry's.] 
Here she is, my boy, with a blushing 

cheek — 
Now take her, be her husband, her 

true friend 
And let this meeting be our sorrow's 
end. 

Exeunt- 



THE END. 



